A short history of England's literature

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GEOFFREY CHAUCER

A SHORT HISTORY OF

ENGLAND'S LITERATURE

BY

EVA MARCH TAPPAN, Ph. D.

Head of the English Department, English High School, Worcester,

Mass.; Author of "England's Story," "OurtCountry's

Story," " Robin Hood His Book," " Old Ballads

in Prose;' " The Christ Story!' etc.

BOSTON, NEW YORK, AND CHICAGO

HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN AND COMPANY
^lie BitetiJitre fceis^, CamStitiBe

A.

<\\

I,

COPYRIGHT, 1905, BY HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN * CO.
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

PREFACE

This book is based upon the following convictions : —

1. That the prime object of studying literature is to
develop the ability to enjoy it.

2. That in every work of literary merit there is some-
thing to enjoy.

3. That it is less important to know the list of an au-
thor's works than to feel the impulse to read one of
them.

4. That it is better to know a few authors well than to
learn the names of many.

To select those few authors with due regard to what
is good in itself and what is historically of valiie, to choose
from the hundreds whose writings have made for literary
excellence, is under no circumstances an easy task. It
is especially difficult — and especially delightful — for
one who can echo most honestly the words of the French
critic, "En littdrature j'aime tout.''

EVA MARCH TAPPAN.
Worcester, Massachusetts,
January, 1905.

CONTENTS

CHAPTER I

Centuries V-XI

THE EARLY ENGLISH PERIOD

PAGE

Our English ancestors — The scop — Growth of the epic — Beo-
wulf; effect of Christianity on the poem — Form of early English
poetry — Widsith — Dear's Lament — Exeter Book — Vercelli
Book — Caedmon — Cynewulf ; runes ; Dream of the Rood —
Early English poetry as a whole — Bede ; Ecclesiastical His-
tory; his English writings — Alcuin — Danish invasions —
Alfred the Great ; his translations ; his language ; Anglo-Saxon
Chronicle — The kingdom at Alfred's death — Literature during
the tenth and eleventh centuries — Cause of degeneracy — Ho-
milies of jElfric — Re-writing of old poems — Other writings —
Influence of the Celts — Difference between Celts and Teutons

— Needs of English literature i

CHAPTER II

Centuries XII and XIII
THE NORMAN-ENGLISH PERIOD

Advantages of the Conquest — The Normans — Struggle between
the two languages — The new English — New influences ; Nor-
man intellectual tastes ; opening of the universities ; crusades —
Chronicles — Ormulum — Ancren Riwle — Four cycles of ro-
mance — History of the Arthur cycle — The Chronicle ends —
French romances ; King Horn — Lyrics — Robin Hood ballads

— Value of the Norman-English writings 25

VI CONTENTS

CHAPTER III

Century Xr7

Chaucer's century

Beginning of English thought — Feudal system — Changed condi-
tion of the peasants — Discontent with the church — Peasants'
Revolt — " Sir John Mandeville " — Langland ; Piers Plow-
man— V^ycMi; his translation of the Bible; persecution —
Chaucer ; plan of Boccaccio and of Chaucer ; pilgrimages ; Can-
terbury Tales ; Chaucer's style ; his characters ; his love of na-
ture; his death; his influence on the language . . • • 35

CHAPTER IV

Century XT
THE people's century

The imitators of Chaucer ; James I ; The King's Quair — Sir
Thomas Malory; Morte d" Arthur ■ — Lack of good literature —
Gain of the " common folk " — Ballads ; marks of a ballad ; com-
position of the ballads — Mystery plays ; cycles ; seeming irrev-
erence ; comical scenes ; tenderness ; Moralities ; Everyman —
Introduction of printing; effect on price of books; effect on
England — Foreign discoveries — Progress of the people 52

CHAPTER V

Century XVI

Shakespeare's century

Literary position of Italy — The Renaissance — Increased know-
ledge of the Western Continent — Teachings of Copernicus —
Henry VIII and the Renaissance — John Skelton ; Phyllyp
Sparrow ; influence of Skelton — Sir Thomas More; Utopia —
religious questioning — Tyndale ; translation of the New Tes-
tament — Separation of Church of England from Church of
Rome — Death of More — Sir Thomas Wyatt — The Earl of
Surrey ; the sonnet ; blank verse ; The yEneid — Totters Mis-

CONTENTS vii

cellany — Masques — Interludes; The Four e P's ; John Hey-
wood — The first English comedy — The first English tragedy ;
difference between them in form — Increasing strength of Eng-
land — Literary boldness — Early Elizabethan drama — Need of
form — John Lyly ; Euphues j advantages of euphuism — Pas-
torals — Edmund Spenser ; Shepherd' s Calendar j Spenser goes
to Ireland — The pastoral fashion — Sir Philip Sidney ; Arcadia

— The miscellanies — Later Elizabethan drama ; songs in the
dramas ; need of a standard verse — Christopher Marlowe ; Tam-
burlaine; triumph of blank verse — Events from 1580 to 1590 —
The Faerie Qiieene — Decade of the sonnet ; Astrophel and Stella

— Richard Hooker ; Ecclesiastical Polity — William Shake-
speare ; in Stratford ; in London ; his plays and poems before
i6oo 68

CHAPTER VI

Century XVII
PURITAKS AND ROYALISTS

Shakespeare's later plays ; sonnets ; his genius ; Shakespeare as a
man — Sir Walter Raleigh ; his History of the World — Francis
Bacon; Essays; public life; philosophy — King James version
of the Bible — Ben Jonson ; Every Man in His Humour ; the
unities ; Shakespeare and Ben Jonson ; Jonson's excellence ; his
masques ; Oberon ; The Sad Shepherd ; the Tribe of Ben —
Beaumont and Fletcher — The First Folio — Closing of the thea-
tres — Decadence of the drama ; causes thereof — Literature of
the conflict — John Donne; conceits — John Milton; shorter
poems ; pamphlets ; marriage ; Milton as Latin secretary ; De-
fence of the English People ; sonnets — George Herbert ; The
Temple — Richard Crashaw; Steps to the Altar — Henry
Vaughan; Silex Scintillans ; \o\e. of nature — Thomas Fuller;
Holy and Profane State ; The Worthies of England — Jeremy
Taylor ; Holy Living and Holy Dying — Richard Baxter ; The
Saints' Everlasting Rest — " Cavalier Poets " — Thomas Carew
— Sir John Suckling — Richard Lovelace — Robert Herrick ;
Hesperides ; Noble Numbers — I zaak Walton; The Compleat
Angler — The Restoration — Samuel Butler; Hudibras — Mil-
ton's later work ; Paradise Lost ; Paradise Regained ; Samson

iii CONTENTS

Agonisies — John Bunydin; persecution; The Pilgrim's Progress
— John Dryden ; the drama of the Restoration ; Dryden's plays ;
his satire ; theological writings ; translations ; odes — Prose
literature of the seventeenth century 103

CHAPTER VII

Oentnry XVIII
THE CENTURY OF PROSE

Coffee drinking — Alexander Pope ; .Essay on Criticism; The Rape
of the Lock; translations ; life ; The Dunciad ; Essay on Man

— Joseph Addison and Richard Steele ; The Tatter; The Spec-
tator; Sir Roger de Cover ley; Cato; Addison's hymns — Jona-
than Swift ; The Tale of a Tub; The Battle of the Books; A Mod-
est Proposal; Gulliver's Travels; Swift's character — Daniel De-
foe ; The Shortest Way with Dissenters; result ; Essay on Pro-
jects; Robinson Crusoe; Journal of the Plague Year — The Age
of Queen Anne — The novel — Samuel Richardson; Pamela —
Henry Fielding; Joseph Andrews — Clarissa Harlowe — Tom
Jones — Tobias Smollett; Roderick Random — Laurence Sterne;

Tristram. Shandy; The Sentimental Journey — Samuel John-
son ; the Dictionary; patronage ; The Rambler; Rasselas; John-
son's pension; James Boswell; Johnson's conversation; his
Shakespeare; Jozirney to the Hebrides; Lives of the Poets —
Oliver Goldsmith ; earlier works ; The Vicar of Wakefield; The
Traveller; The Good-Natured Man; The Deserted Village; She
Stoops to Conquer — Edmund Bvirke ; On the Sublime afid Beau-
tiful; On Conciliation with America; On the French Revolution

— William Robertson; his work — David Hume; History of
England — Edward Gibbon; Decline and Fall of the Roman
Empire — New qualities in literature — Thomas Gray; "Gray's
Elegy " — Percy's Reliques — William Cowper ; his hymns ; John
Gilpin; The Task — Robert Burns; early work and models;
first volume ; visit to Edinburgh; disappointment; songs; Tarn
O'Shanter; The Cotter's Saturday Night 153

CONTENTS IX

CHAPTER VIII

Century XIX
THE CENTURY OF THE NOVEL

The "Lake Poets" — William Wordsworth — S. T. Coleridge;
Lyrical Ballads; Rime of the Ancient Mariner — Robert
Southey; his works — Coleridge's poetry; its incompleteness —
Wordsworth's life ; slow appreciation of his poems — Walter
Scott ; boyhood ; early literary work ; Minstrelsy of the Scottish
Border ; Abbotsford ; failure of publishers ; the historical novel —
Lord Byron ; Hours of Idleness; English Bards and Scotch
Reviewers; Childe Harold; Byron's later life and poems ; two
subjects that interested him ; attempts to aid the Greeks —
Percy Bysshe Shelley; best poems; poetic qualities; death —
John Keats ; Endymion and its reviews ; later poems ; Ode to a
Grecian Urn — Charles Lamb ; his friends ; poems ; play ; Tales
from. Shakespeare; Specimens of Dramatic Poets, etc.; Essays
of Elia ; freedom — Thomas De Quincey ; first literary work ;
Confessions of an English Opium-Eater ; dependence ; two of
his best known essays ; his style ; Edinburgh Review — Quarterly
Review — Blackwood'' s Magazine — Jane Austen; her novels;
their excellence — 1832 a natural boundary — Charles Dickens ;
early struggles; The Pickwick Papers; later work; qualities
of his characters ; method of caricature ; hard work — W. M.
Thackeray; slowness of general appreciation; Vanity Fair;
Thackeray and Fielding ; lectures; burlesques; best novels —
"George Eliot ;" character of her first work; first fiction; The
Mill on the Floss; Silas Marner; character of her later books ;
her work contrasted with Scott's ; her seriousness of purpose —
T. B. Macaulay; precocity ; memory; first great essay; in poli-
tics ; Lays of Ancient Rome ; History of England — Thomas
Carlyle ; his indecision ; failures ; marriage ; Sartor Resartus ;
History of the French Revolution ; Heroes and Hero-Worship ;
Frederick the Great; final honors — John Ruskin ; Modern
Painters; interest in workingmen ; industrial ideas; poetical
titles; style — Matthew Arnold ; The Forsaken Merman; Greek
restraint; prose criticism — Robert Browning; Miss Barrett and
her poems; Browning's marriage; his dramas; Pippa Passes ^

X CONTENTS

Mrs. Browning's Aurora Leigh and Sonnets from the Portu-
guese; Browning's later volumes; growth of his fame; how to
enjoy Browning — Alfred Tennyson; early poems and their
reception ; recognition of his genius ; The Princess; In Memo-
riam; as Laureate ; The Idylls of the King; Enoch Arden;
dramas — The Age of the Pen — Progress of literature — The
novel of to-day . . 197

REFERENCES 256

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

PAGE

Geoffrey Chaucer. From the National Portrait Gallery.

Painter unknown Frontispiece

Portion of the First Page of Beowulf. Folio i 29 r of

MS. Cott. Vitellius A. XV in the British iVIuseum ... 5

The Ruins of Whitby Abbey. From a photograph . . 9
Monk at Work on the Book of Kildare. From a MS.

in the British Museum 13

Medieval Author at Work. From a MS. in the library
at Soissons in Cutts's Scenes and Characters of the Middle

Ages IS

King Alfred. From an engraving by Vertue in Annates

rerum gestarum A Ifredi Magni by Ass&dvs M.tnt\tnsis . 17
Dedication of a Saxon Church. From a MS. in the li-
brary at Rouen used in Knight's Popular History of England 20
Sir Launcelot and a Hermit. From an illuminated MS.

of 1316 copied in Cutts's Middle Ages 29

A Band of Minstrels. From a fourteenth century MS. in

Cutts's Middle Ages 33

Sir John Mandeville on his Voyage to Palestine.
From a MS. in the British Museum copied in Cutts's Mid-
dle Ages 38

John Wyclif. From the South Kensington National Por-
traits 41

The Prioress. From the EUesmere MS. ... ■ M

The Wife of Bath. From the Harleian MS 46

The Squire. From the EUesmere MS -47

The Parson. " " " " . . . . .48

Chaucer. u " " " 45

A Mystery Play at Coventry. From an old print . . 58
A Scene from "Everyman." From a photograph of the

reproduction given by the Ben Greet Company 61

Caxton presented to Edys^ard IV. From Strutt's Ec-
clesiastical and Regal Atitiquities 63

XU . LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

Eakliest known Representation of a Printing-Press.

From Blade's William Caxton 65

Sir Thomas More. From Holbein's Court of Henry VIII 72
A Masquer. From John Nichol's Progress of James / . . 76
Edmund Spenser. From South Kensington National Por-
traits 85

Sir Philip Sidney 87

The Red Cross Knight. From the third edition of the

Faerie Queene, 1598 93

Shakespeare's Birthplace at Stratford. From a pho-
tograph 97

William Shakespeare. From the Chandos Portrait . 99
Ben Jonson. From a painting by Gerard Honthorst . . .111
John Milton. From a crayon drawing at Bayfordbury . .119
Printing Office of 161 9. From the title-page of a book

printed by William Jones in 1619 ... 123

George Herbert 125

John Bunyan. After a drawing from Ufa in the British

• Museum ... 143

John Dryden 147

Alexander Pope. From a portrait by Richardson . . .154

Joseph Addison •. . 159

Jonathan Swift 165

Daniel Defoe 169

Samuel Richardson 172

Samuel Johnson. After Sir Joshua Reynolds 175

Oliver Goldsmith i8i

Robert Burns. From the painting by Alexander Nasmyth

in the National Portrait Gallery 191

William Wordsworth. From an engraving by F. T.

Stuart IQ7

Samuel Taylor Coleridge 201

Sir Walter Scott in 1820. From the Chantry Bust . . 204

John Keats ... 212

Charles Lamb ...... 215

Thomas De Quincey 219

Charles Dickens. After a crayon drawing by Sol Eytinge,

J'' 224

William Makepeace Thackeray 227

Lord Macaulay 231

Robert Browning 240

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS xiu

Lord Tennyson 243

Cardinal Newman at 44 249

Poets' Corner, Westminster Abbey. From a photograph 251

MAP

Places mentioned in English Literary History (indexed
double-page colored map) Facing i

SIGNIFICANT DATES IN ENGLISH LITER-
ATURE

680. Death of Casdmon.
735. Death of Bede.
901. Death of Alfred.
1066. Norman Conquest.

1 1 54. Anglo-Saxon Chronicle tnAs; death of Geoffrey of
Monmouth. .
1205-25. Layamon's Brut, the Ormulum, the Ancren Riwle.
1346. Battle of Cr^cy.

1362. Piers Plowman. English becomes the official lan-
guage of the courts.
1380. Wyclif's translation of the Bible.
1400. Death of Chaucer.

1453. Capture of Constantinople by the Turks.
1470. Malory's Morte d^ Arthur.
1476. Printing introduced into England.
1 525. Tyndale's translation of the New Testament.
Before 1 547. Blank verse introduced by Surrey, the Sonnet and
Italian attention to form introduced by Surrey and
Wyatt.
1 552 or 53 (?). Ralph Roister Bolster, the first English comedy.
1564. Birth of Shakespeare.
1579. Euphues ; The Shepherd^s Calendar.
1587-93. Marlowe shows the power of blank verse.
1590. Arcadia J Books i-iii of the Faerie Queene.
1 590-1600. Decade of the Sonnet.

1594. Hooker's Ecclesiastical Polity, Books i-iv.
161 1. " King James version " of the Bible.
1616. Death of Shakespeare.
1623. First Folio.
1632-38. Milton's n Allegro, II Penseroso, Comus, and Ly-
cidas.
1642. Closing of the theatres.

SIGNIFICANT DATES XV

1660. The Restoration.

1662. Hudibras.

i(£f. Paradise Lost.

1678. The Pilgrim's Progress.

1700. Death of Dryden.

1 709-1 1. The Tatler.

1711-13. The Spectator.

1740. Pamela, the first English novel.

1751. Gray's Elegy.

1765. Percy's Reliques.

1798. Lyrical Ballads, by Wordsworth and Coleridge.

1802-17. Reviews established.

181 1. Jane Austen's Sense and Sensibility.

1 81 2. First part of Byron's Childe Harold.
1 8 14. Scott's Waverley.

1819-21. Best work of Keats and Shelley.

1830. Tennyson's Poems, Chiefly Lyrical.

1836-37. Dickens's Pickwick Papers.

01843. First volume of Ruskin's Modern Painters.

1848. First volume of Macaulay's History of England.

1857. " George Eliot's " first fiction.

1868-69. Browning's The Ring and the Book.

A SHORT HISTORY
OF ENGLAND'S LITERATURE

CHAPTER I

OBNTUKIES V-XI

EARLY ENGLISH PERIOD

I . Poetry

1. Our English ancestors. About fifteen hundred
years ago, our English ancestors were Uving in Jutland
and the northern part of what is now Germany. They
were known as Saxons, Angles, and Jutes, all different
tribes of Teutons. They were bold and daring, and de-
lighted in dashing through the waves wherever the tem-
pest might carry them, burning and plundering on what-
ever coast they landed. If a man died fighting bravely
in battle, they believed that the. Valkyries bore him to
the Valhalla of Odin and Thor, where the joys of fight-
ing and feasting would never end. Yet these savage
warriors loved music ; they were devoted to their homes
and their families ; and, independent as they were, th.ey
would yield to any one whom they believed to be their
rightful ruler. They were honest in their religion, and
they thought seriously about the puzzling questions of
life and death. They were sturdy in body and mind,
the best of material to found a nation. About the mid-
dle of the fifth century, they began to go in large num-
bers to Britain, and there they remained, either slaying

2 ENGLAND'S LITERATURE [4th-sth Cent.

or driving to the west and north the Celts who had pre-
viously occupied the country. The Angles were one of
the strongest Teutonic tribes, and gradually the island
became known as the land of the Angles, then Angle-
land, then England.

However rough the Teutons might be, there was one

person whom they never forgot to treat with special

honor, and that was the "scop," the maker,

e scop. ^^ former. It was his noble oiifice to chant
the achievements of heroes at the feasts of which the
Teutons were so fond. Imagine a rude hall with a
raised platform at one end. A line of stone hearths with
blazing fires runs down the room from door to door.
Between the hearths and the side walls are places for
the sleeping-benches of the warriors. In the fires great
joints of meat are roasting, and on either side of the
hearths are long, rude tables. On the walls are shields
and breastplates and helmets, and coats of mail made
of rings curiously fastened together. Here and there
are clusters of spears standing against the wall. The
burnished mail flashes back the blazing of the fires, and
trembles with the heavy tread of the thegns, with their
merriment and their laughter, for the battle or the
voyage is over, and the time of feasting has come. On
the platform is the table of the chief, and with him sit
the women of his family, and any warriors to whom he
wishes to show special honor. After the feasting and
the drinking of mighty cups of "mead," gifts are pre-
sented to those who have been bravest, sometimes by
the chief, ^nd sometimes — an even greater honor — by
the wife of the chief herself. These gifts are horses,
jewelled chains for the neck or golden bracelets for the
arms, brightly polished swords, and coats of mail and
helmets. The scop sits on the platform by the side

5th-6th Cent.] EARLY ENGLISH PERIOD , 3

of the chief. When the feasting is ended, he strikes
a heavy chord on his harp and begins his song with
" Hwaet ! " that is, " Lo ! " or " Listen ! "

2. Growth of the epic. — Beowulf. These songs
chanted by the scops were composed many years before
they were written, and probably no two singers ever
sang them exactly alike. One scop would sing some
exploit of a hero ; another would sing it differently, and
perhaps add a second exploit greater than the first.
Little by little the poem grew longer. Little by little it
became more united. The heroic deeds grew more and
more marvellous, they became achievements that affected
the welfare of a whole people ; the poem had a hero, a
J)eginning, and an end. The simple tale of a single ad-
venture had become an epic. After a while it was writ-
ten ; and the manuscript of one of these epics has come
down to us, though after passing through the perils of
fire, and is now in the British Museum. It

Beownlt.

is called Beowulf because it is the story of the
exploits of a hero by that name. The scene is appar-
ently laid in Denmark and southern Sweden, and it is
probable that bits of the poem were chanted at feasts
long before the Teutons set sail for the shores of Eng-
land. The story of the poem is as follows : —

Hrothgar, king of the Danes, built a more beautiful hall
than men had ever heard of before. There he and his
thegns enjoyed music and feasting, and divided the treasures
that they had won in many a hard-fought battle. They were
very happy together ; but down in the marshes by the ocean
was a monster named Grendel, who envied them and hated
them. One night, when the thegns were sleeping, he came
up stealthily through the mists and the darkness and dragged
away thirty of the men and devoured them.

Night after night the slaughter went on, for Hrothgar was

4 ENGLAND'S LITERATURE [sth-6th Cent.

feeble with age and none of his thegns were strong enough
to take vengeance. At length the young hero, Beowulf, heard
of the monster, and offered to attack it. When night came,
Grendel stalked up through the darkness, seized a warrior,
and devoured him. He grasped another, but that other was
Beowulf ; and then came a struggle, for the monster felt such
a clutch as he had never known. No sword could harm
Grendel. Whoever overcame him must win by the strength
of his own right arm. Benches were torn from their places,
and the very hall trembled with the contest. At last Grendel
tore himself away and fled to the marshes, but he left his
arm in the unyielding grasp of the hero.

Then was there great rejoicing with Hrothgar and his
thegns. A lordly feast was given to the champion ; horses
and jewels and armor and weapons were presented to him,
while scops sang of his glory. The joy was soon turned
into sorrow, however, for on the following night, another
monster, as horrible as the first, came into the hall. It was
the mother of Grendel come to avenge her son, and she
carried away one of Hrothgar's favorite liegemen.

When Beowulf was told of this, he set out to punish the
murderer. He followed' the footprints of the fiend through
the wood-paths, over the swamps, the cliffs, and the fens ; and
at last he came to a precipice overhanging water that was
swarming with dragons and sea serpents. Deep down among
them was the den of Grendel and his mother. Beowulf put
on his best armor and dived down among the horrible crea-
tures, while his men kept an almost hopeless watch on the
cliff above him. All day long he sank, down, down, until he
came to the bottom of the sea. There was Grendel's mother,
and she dragged him into her den. Then there was another
terrible struggle, and as the blood burst up through the
water, the companions of Beowulf were sad indeed, for they
felt sure that they should never again see the face of their
beloved leader. While they were gazing sorrowfully at the
water, the hero appeared, bearing through the waves the

5th-6th Cent.] EARLY ENGLISH PERIOD 5

head of Grendel. He had killed the mother and cut off the
head from Grendel's body, which lay in the cavern.

Beowulf's third exploit took place many years later, after
he had ruled his people for fifty years. He heard of a vast
treasure of gold and jewels hidden away in the earth, and
although it was guarded by a fire-breathing dragon, he deter-
mined to win it for his followers. There was a fearful
encounter, and his thegns, all save one, proved to be cowards
and deserted him. He won the victory, but the dragon had
wounded him, and the poison of the wound soon ended his
life. Then the thegns built up a pyre, hung with helmets
and coats of mail ; and on it they burned the body of their
dead leader. After this, they raised a mighty mound in his
honor, and placed in it a store of rings and of jewels.
Slowly the greatest among them rode around it, mourning for
their leader and speaking words of love and praise, —

Said he was mightiest of all the great world-kings,

Mildest of rulers, most gentle in manner.

Most kind to his liegemen, most eager for honor.

This is the story of Beowulf as it has come down to us
in a single ragged and smoke-stained manuscript. This

(5i

P/ETPEEARD]

bjwm ^epfifxinon htrSa, ce]>erlw^aj[ elle
^eme-ioTi. ope fey lb fcepn? fcecuWi

A PORTION OF THE FIRST PAGE OF THE BEOWULF MANUSCRIPT

manuscript was probably written in the eighth or ninth
century, and the poem must differ greatly from the
original version, especially in its religious allusions. In
earlier times, the Celts had learned the Christian faith

6 ENGLAND'S LITERATURE [5th-6th Cent.

from the Irish ; but it was not preached to the Teutons
BHectoi in southern England until 597, when mission-
ohrisuan- ^^j f^^jj^ jj^^jj^e j^ade their way to Kent. At
Ity on tne •' i t 1

poem. first they were allowed to preach on the little

island of Thanet only and in the open air ; for the wary
Teutons had no idea of hearing strange teachings under
roofs where magic might easily overpower them. Soon,
however, large numbers became earnest converts. Bits
of the teachings of the missionaries were dropped into
Beowulf. Instead of "Fate," the poets said "God;"
Grendel is declared to be a descendant of Cain; and the
scop interrupts his story of Grendel's envious hatred by
singing of the days when God made the heavens and
the earth ; the ceremonies at the burning of Beowulf
are heathen, but the poem says that it was God, the
true King of Victory, who led him to the fire-dragon's
treasures.

3. Form of early English poetry. Many words in
Old English are like words in present use, but Old Eng-
lish poetry was different in several respects from the
poetry of to-day. The following lines from Beowulf are
a good illustration : —

Tha com of more under mist-hleothum

Then came from the moor under the misty-hillside

Grendel gongan, Godes yrre baer ;

Grendel going, God's wrath he bore ;

mynte se man-scatha manna cynnes

intended the deadly foe of men to the race

surane besyrwan in sele tham hean.

some 'one to ensnare in hall that lofty.

To-day we like to hear rhyme at the end of our lines ;
our ancestors enjoyed not rhyme, but alliteration. In
every line there were four accented syllables. The third,

5th-6th Cent.] EARLY ENGLISH PERIOD 7

the "rime-giver," gave the keynote, for with whatever
letter that began, one of the preceding accented syllables
must begin and both might begin. The fourth never
alliterated with the other three. In the iirst line quoted,
the accented syllables are com, mor, mist, and hie. Mist
is the rime-giver. In the second line, God is the rime-
giver, while Gren, gon, and bar are the other accented
syllables. The Teutons were very fond of compound
words. Some of these words are simple and childlike,
such as ban-hus (bone-house), body ; ban-loca (bone-
locker), flesh. Some, especially those pertaining to the
ocean, are poetical, such as mere-strset (sea-street), way
over the sea ; yth-lida (wave-sailer) and famig-heals
(foamy-necked), vessel.

4. Other Old English poems. A number of shorter
poems have come down to us from the Old English.
Among them are two that are of special in-
terest. One of these is Widsith (the far-
wanderer), and this is probably our earliest English
poem. It pictures the life of the scop, who roams about
from one great chief to another, everywhere made wel-
come, everywhere rewarded for his song by kindness
and presents. The poem ends : —

Wandering thus, there roam over many a country

The gleemen of heroes, mindful of songs for the chanting,

Telling their needs, their heartfelt thankfulness speaking.

Southward or northward, wherever they go, there is some one

Who values their song and is liberal to them in his presents,

One who before his retainers would gladly exalt

His achievements, would show forth his honors. Till all this is

vanished,
Till life and light disappear, who of praise is deserving
Has ever throughout the wide earth a glory unchanging.

The second of these songs is Dear's Lament. Deor is

8 ENGLAND'S LITERATURE [5th-6th Cent.

in sorrow, for another scop has become his lord's favor-
]jj„.g ite. The neglected singer comforts himself
Lament by recalling the troubles that others have met.
Each stanza ends with the refrain, —

That he endured ; this, too, can L

Widsith and Dears Lament were found in a manu-
script volume of poems collected and copied more than
TteBxetei eight hundred years ago. It is known as the
Book. Exeter Book because it belongs to the cathe-

dral at Exeter. Another volume, containing both poe-
Thever- ^ry and prose, was discovered at the Monastery
oeiiiBook. of Vercelli in Italy. These two volumes and
the manuscript of Beowulf coxiizxn almost all that is left
to us of Anglo-Saxon poetry.

5. Csedmon [d. 680]. The happy scop and the un-
happy scop are both forgotten. No one knows who
wrote either the rejoicing or the lament. The first
English poet that we know by name is the monk Csed-
mon, who died in 68o. The introduction of Christianity
made great changes in the country, for though the sturdy
Effect of Englishmen could not lay aside in one century.
Christian- or two, or three, all their confidence in charms
and magic verses, and in runic letters cut into
the posts of their doors and engraved on their swords
and their battle-axes, yet they were honest believers in
the God of whom they had learned. Churches and con-
vents rose throughout the land, and one of these convents
was the home of Caedmon. It was founded by Irish mis-
sionaries, and was built at what is now called Whitby, on
a lofty cliff overlooking the German Ocean. There men
and women prayed and worked and sought to live lives of
holiness. At one of their feasts the harp passed from
one to another, that each might sing in turn. Csedmon

7th Cent] EARLY ENGLISH PERIOD 9

had not been educated as a monk, and therefore he had
never learned to make songs. As the harp came near
him, he was glad to slip out of the room with the excuse
that he must care for the cattle. In the stable Cffidmon's
he fell asleep ; and as he slept a vision appeared vision,
to him and said, " Csedmon, sing some song to me."
" I cannot sing," he replied, " and that is why I left the
feasting." "But you shall sing," declared the vision.

y^^:^^^^^^^m^'"-^

THE RUINS OF WHITBY ABBEY

"Sing the beginning of created beings." Then Caed-
mon sang. He sang of the power of the Creator, of his
glory, and of how He made the heavens and the earth.
In the morning he told the steward of the mysterious
gift that had come to him while he slept, and the stew-
ard led him joyfully to Hilda, the royal maiden who was
their abbess. Many learned men came together, and
Csedmon told them his dream and repeated his verses.
Another subject was given him, and he made verses on
that also. "It is the grace of God," said the council rev-

lO ENGLAND'S LITERATURE [8th Cent.

erently. The habit of a monk was put upon him, he was
carefully taught the word of God, and as he learned, he
composed poem after poem, following the Bible story
from the creation to the coming of Christ, his resurrec-
tion and his ascension.

6. Cynewulf, born about 750. The name of one
more poet, Cynewulf, is that of the greatest of the au-
thors whose words have come down to us from the early
days of England. He, too, was probably of Northum-
bria, and he must have written about a century after the
time of Csedmon. Hardly anything is known of him
except his name ; but he interwove that in some of his
poems in such a way that it could never be forgotten.
For this purpose he made use of runes, the
earliest of the northern alphabets. Each rune
represented not only a letter, but also the word of which
it was the initial ; for instance : —

C — Cene, the courageful warrior.

Y =Yfel, wretched.

N = Nyd, necessity.

W=Wyn, joy.

U = Ur, our.

L = Lagu, water.

F =Feoh, wealth.

With these runes Cynewulf spelled out his name : —

Then the Courage-hearted cowers when the King he hears
Speak the words of wrath — Him the wielder of the heavens
Speak to those who once on earth but obeyed him weakly,
While as yet their Fearning pain, and their Weed, most easily
Comfort might discover.

Gone is then the ff^insomeness
Of the earth's adornments ! What to l/s as men belon<red
Of the joys of life was locked, long ago in Z,ake-iloods,
All the J^et on earth.'

1 Stopford Brooke's translation, in English Literature from the
Beginning to the Norman Conquest.

8th Cent.] EARLY ENGLISH PERIOD II

Cynewulf has many beautiful descriptions of nature,
sometimes of nature calm and quiet and peaceful; for
instance : —

When the winds are lulled and the weather is fair,.
When the sun shines bright, holy jewel of heaven,
When the clouds are scattered, the waters subdued.
When no stormwind is heard, and the candle of nature
Shines warm from the south, giving light to the many.

Cynewulf loved tranquil days and peaceful scenes ; but
if he wrote the riddles which are often thought to be
his, he had not lost sympathy with the wild life of his
ancestors on the stormy ocean. The English liked rid-
dles, and this one must have been repeated over and
over again at convent feasts and in halls at times of
rejoicing : —

Sometimes I come down from above and stir up the storm-waves ;
The surges, gray as the flint-stone, I hurl on the sea-banks,
The foaming waters I dash on the rock-wall. Gloomily
Moves from the deep a mountain billow ; darkening.
Onward it sweeps o'er the turbulent wild of the ocean.
Another comes forth and, commingling, they meet at the mainland
In high, towering ridges. Loud is the call from the vessel.
Loud is the sailors' appeal ; but the rock-masses lofty
Stand unmoved by the seafarers' cries or the waters.

The answer to this is " The hurricane."

An especially beautiful poem of Cynewulf's is called
the Dream of the Rood. The cross appeared to the poet
in a dream, — " the choicest dream," he calls it. The Dream
It was "circled with light," it was glittering '>*tJ'»K«''4-
with gems and with gold, and around it stood the angels
of God. From it there flowed forth a stream of blood ;
and while the dreamer gazed in wonder, the cross spoke
to him. It told him of the tree being cut from the edge
of the forest and made into the cross. Then followed
the story of the crucifixion, of the three crosses that

12 . ENGLAND'S LITERATURE [7th-8th Cent.

Stood long on Calvary sorrowing, of the burial of the
cross of Christ deep down in the earth, of its being
found by servants of God, who adorned it with silver
and with gold that it might bring healing to all who
should pay it their reverence.

7. Early English poetry as a whole. Such was the
Early English poetry, beginning with wild exploits of
half-fabulous heroes and gradually changing under the
touch of Christianity into paraphrases of the Bible story,
into legends of saints, and accounts of heavenly vi-
sions. It contains bold descriptions of sea and tempest,
intermingling, as the years passed, with pictures of
more quiet and peaceful scenes. The names of but two
poets, Csedmon and Cynewulf, are known to us ; but
throughout all these early poems there is an earnest-
ness, an appealing sincerity, and an honest, childlike
love of nature, that bring the writers very near to us,
and make them no unworthy predecessors of the poets
that have followed them.

2. Prose

8. Bade, 673-735. About the time of the death of
Csedmon, a boy was born in Northumbria who was to
write one of the most famous pieces of Early English
prose. His name was Bede, or Bseda, and he is often
called the Venerable Bede, venerable being the title
next below that of saint. When he was a little child,
he was taken to the convent of Jarrow, and there he
remained all his life. A busy life it was. The many
Hiseduoa- hours of prayer must be observed; the land
«»"■ must be cultivated ; guests must be enter-
tained, no small interruption as the fame of the convent
and of Bede himself increased. Moreover, this convent
was a great school, to which some six hundred pupils.

8th Cent.] EARLY ENGLISH PERIOD

13

plea-

not only from England but from various parts of Europe,
came for instruction.

Bede enjoyed it all. He was happy in his religious
duties. He "always took delight," as he says, "in
learning, teaching, and writing." He found real
sure in the. outdoor work ;
and, little as he tells us of his
own life, he does not forget
to say that he especially liked
winnowing and threshing the
grain and giving milk to the
young lambs and calves. He
was keenly alive to the affairs
of the world, and though li-
braries were his special de-
light, he was as ready to talk
with his stranger guests of
distant kingdoms as of books.
In the different monasteries
of England there were collec-
tions of valuable manuscripts, and Jarrow had one of
the most famous of these collections. The abbot loved
books, and from each one of his numerous journeys to
Rome he returned with a rich store of volumes.

Much of Bede's time must have been given to teach-
ing, and yet, in the midst of all his varied occupations,
this first English scholar found leisure to Bejj.g
write an enormous amount. Forty-five different ■»"itings.
works he produced, and they were really a summary of
the knowledge of his day. He wrote of grammar, rhet-
oric, music, medicine ; he wrote lives of saints and com-
mentaries on the Bible, — indeed, there is hardly a
subject that he did not touch. He even wrote a vol-
ume of poems, including a dainty little pastoral, resem-

MONK AT WORK ON BOOK OF
KILDAHE

14 ENGLAND'S LITERATURE [8th Cent.

bling the Latin pastorals, a contest of song between
summer and winter, which closes with a pretty picture
of the coming of springtime and the cuckoo. "When
the cuckoo comes," he says, "the hills are covered with
happy blossoms, the flocks find pasture, the meadows
are full of repose, the spreading branches of the trees
give shade to the weary, and the many-colored birds
sing their joyful greeting to the sunshine."

One day the king of Northumbria asked Bede to write
a history of England, and the busy monk began the
work as simply as if he were about to prepare a lesson
for his pupils. He sent to Rome for copies of letters
and reports written in the early days when the Romans
ruled the land ; he borrowed from various convents their
treasures of old manuscripts pertaining to the early
times ; and he talked with men who had preserved the
Bede'sBc- ^"^i^"*^ traditions and legends. So it was that
oiesiasUoai Bede's Ecclesiastical History, the first history

* '"'■ of England, was written. When it was done,
he sent it to the king, together with a sincere and dig-
nified little preface, in which he asked for the prayers
of whoever should read the book, — a much larger num-
ber than the quiet monk expected.

With the difficulty of collecting information, no one
could expect Bede's work to be free from mistakes, al-
though he was careful from whom his information came,
and he often gives the name of his authority. Bede
knew well how to tell a story, and the Ecclesiastical
History, sober and grave as its title sounds, is full of
tales of visions of angels, lights from heaven, myste-
rious voices, and tempests that were stilled and fires that
were quenched at the prayers of holy men. Here is
the legend of Casdmon and his gift of song. Here, too,
is the famous statement that there are no snakes in Ire-

8th Cent.]

EARLY ENGLISH PERIOD

IS

land. " Even if they are carried thither from Britain,"
says Bede, "as soon as the ship comes near the shore
and the scent of the air reaches them, they die."

All these books were written in Latin. That was the
tongue of the church and of all scholars of the day. It
was a universal language, and an educated man might
be set down in any monastery in England or on the
Continent, and feel perfectly at home in its book-room
or in conversation with the monks. Bede was so thor-
oughly English, however, in his love of nature, his
frankness and earnestness, and his devotion to the peo-
ple of his own land that, although he wrote in Latin,
most of his works have a purely English atmosphere.
He did not scorn his native tongue, and even in „ ^ ,
his writing he may have used it more than once, Engush
though we know the name of one work only. ^" ^''
This was a translation of the Gospel of St. John, and

it was his last work. He

knew that his life was near
its close, but he felt that he
must complete this trans-
lation for his pupils. Some
one of them was always
with him to write as the
teacher might feel able to
dictate. The last day of
his life came, and in the
morning the pupil said,
" Master, there is still one
chapter wanting. Will it
trouble you to be asked a
any more questions } "
"It is no trouble," answered
and write quickly."

MEDIEVAL AUTHOR AT WORK

Bede. " Take your pen
When evening had come, the boy

l6 ENGLAND'S LITERATURE [Sth-pth Cent.

said gently, " Dear Master, there is yet one sentence
not written." " Write quickly," said Bade again. "The
sentence is written," said the boy a few minutes later.
"It is well," murmured Bede, and with new strength
he joyfully chanted the Gloria; and so, in 73S, he
passed away, the first English scholar, scientist, and
historian.

9. Alcuin, 7357-804. In the very year of Bede's
death, if we may trust to tradition, Alcuin was born, the
man who was to carry on English scholarship, though not
on English soil. He was a monk of the convent of York,
and was famous for his knowledge. Perhaps some of
the English churchmen thought that he was too famous,
when they knew that King Charlemagne had heard of
his learning, and had persuaded him to leave his own
country and come to France to teach the royal children
and take charge of education in the Frankish kingdom.
For fourteen years, from 782 to 796, he spent nearly all
his time at the court of Charlemagne. Moreover, he
persuaded many other men of York training to leave
England and assist him in teaching the French. He
little knew how grateful the English would be in later
years that this had been done.

10. Alfred the Great, 848-901. During those years
of Alcuin's absence in France, there was dire trouble in
Danisii Northumbria. King after king was slain by
Invasions, rebels ; and finally the Danes, coming from the
shores of the Baltic, made their first attacks on the
coasts of Northumbria. This was the beginning. Year
after year the savage pirates fell upon the land. For
more than three quarters of a century the Northum-
brians were either fighting or dreading the coming of
their heathen foes. At the end of that time, when
peace was made with the terrible invaders, Northumbria

9th Cent.]

EARLY ENGLISH PERIOD

17

was a desert so far as literature was concerned. The
Danes had struck especially at the monasteries because
of the gold and silver vessels and ornaments that were
collected in them ; and not one monastery remained
standing in all the
land from the Tyne
to the Humber. Li-
braries famous over
Europe had been
burned ; smoked
and bloodstained
ruins were alone
left to show where
men had been
taught who had be-
come the teachers
of Europe. South
of the Humber mat-
. ters were little bet-
ter ; for there, too,
the heathen Danes
had swept through
and through the country. Priests pronounced the words
in their Latin mass books, but very few could under-
stand the language and put a Latin letter into English.
The only hope of England lay in her king. It was
happy for her that her king was Alfred the Great, and
that this sovereign who could fight battles of swords
and spears was of equal courage and wisdom in iu„a's
the warfare against ignorance. In his child- oharaoter.
hood he had visited Rome, perhaps spent several years
in that city. He had paid a long visit at the Prankish
court of Charlemagne's son. He had seen what know-
ledge could do, and he meant that his own people should

KING ALFRED

l8 ENGLAND'S LITERATURE [9th Cent.

have a chance to learn. Then it was that France repaid
England for the loan of Alcuin, for priests taught in
the schools which he had founded were induced to
cross the Channel and become the teachers of the Eng-
lish.

There were few English books, however, and there
was no one to make them but this busy king ; and just
ijjjgj.s as simply as Bede had taken up his pen to write

transia- a history of the land, so Alfred set to work to
Upns.

translate books for his kmgdom. Among the

books that he translated were two that must have been
of special interest to the English, Bede's Ecclesiastical
History and a combined history and geography of the
world, written five hundred years before Alfred's day by
a Spanish monk called Orosius. The latter had long
been a favorite school-book in the convents ; but, natu-
rally, a geography that was five hundred years old was in
need of revision, and Alfred became not only a trans-
lator but a reviser. He never forgot that he was writing .
for his people, and whenever he came to an expression
that would not be clear to them, he either explained it,
or omitted it altogether. Whenever he could correct a
mistake of Orosius's, he did so.

11. The language of Alfred's time. In one way Al-
fred had not only his translations to make, but his very
language to invent. Latin is a finished, exact, accurate
language ; the English of the ninth century was rude,
childish, and awkward, and it was no easy task to in-
terpret the clean-cut wording of the Latin into the loose,
clutnsy English phrases. Nevertheless, Alfred had no
thought of imitating the Latin construction. The fol-
lowing is a literal translation of part of the preface to
one of his books that he sent to Waerferth, bishop of
Worcester : —

9th Cent.] EARLY ENGLISH PERIOD IQ

Alfred the King bids to greet Waerferth the bishop with loving
words and in friendly wise ; and I bid this be known to thee that
it very often comes into my mind what wise men there were for-
merly, both clergy and laymen ; and what blessed times there were
then throughout England ; and how kings who had power over the
nation in those days obeyed God and his ministers, and they both
preserved peace, order, and authority at home and also increased
theif territory abroad ; and how they throve both in war and in
wisdom ; and also the holy orders how zealous they were both in
teaching and in learning, and in all the services that they ought
to give to God ; and how people from abroad sought wisdom and
teaching in this land ; and how we must now get them from with-
out if we are to have them.

Confused as this is, the king's earnestness shows in
every word. He knows just what he means to say, and,
language or no language, he contrives to say it. Bede's
translation of the Gospel of Saint John disappeared
centuries ago, and this preface of King Alfred's is the
first bit of English prose that we possess. Literature
had vanished from the north and was making its home
in the south.

12. The Anglo-Saxon Chronicle. Another piece of
literary and historical work we owe to Alfred, and that
is the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle. In almost every con-
vent the monks were accustomed to set down what
seemed to them the most important events, such as the
death of a king, an attack by the Danes, an unusually
high tide, or an eclipse of the sun. One of these lists of
events was kept in the convent at Winchester, Alfred's
capital city, and the idea occurred to him of revising
this table, adding to it from Bede's Ecclesiastical His-
tory and other sources, and making it the beginning
of a progressive history of his kingdom. It is possible
that Alfred himself did this revising, and it can hardly
be doubted that he wrote at least the accounts of some
of his own battles with the Danes.

20

ENGLAND'S LITERATURE [loth Cent.

13. Death of Alfred. In 901, it was written in the
Chronicle, "This year died Alfred, the son of Ethel-
wulf." King Alfred left England apparently on the way
to literary progress, if not greatness. The kingdom was
at peace ; the Danes of the north and the English of the
south were under one king, and were, nominally at least,
ruled by the same laws ; churches had arisen over the
kingdom ; convents had been built and endowed ; schools

were increasing in
number and in
excellence ; books
of practical worth
had been trans-
lated, probably
more than have
come down to us ;
the people had
been encouraged
to learn the lan-
guage of scholars,
yet their own na-
tive tongue had
not been scorned,
but rather raised to the rank of a literary language.
There seemed every reason to expect national progress
in all directions, and especially in matters intellectual.

14. Literature during the 10th and 11th centuries.
The contrary was the fact. For this there were two rea-
sons : I. Alfred's rule was a one-man power. His sub-
jects studied because the king required study. Learned
men came to England because the king invited them and
rewarded them. At Alfred's death a natural reaction
set in. The strong will and the generous hand were
gone, the watchful eye of the king was closed. 2. The

DEDICATION OF A SAXON CHURCH

From an old manuscript

loth-iith Cent] EARLY ENGLISH PERIOD 21

Danes renewed their attacks. It almost ceased to be a
question of any moment whether England should ad-
vance ; far more pressing was the question whether
England should exist. The church was in a low state.
The monks did not obey th'e rules of their orders, and
many of the secular clergy were not only ignorant but
openly wicked. About the middle of the tenth century,
the monk Dunstan became abbot of Glastonbury, and
he preached reforms so earnestly that both priests and
people began to mend their ways. Moreover, the year
looo was approaching, and there was a general feeling
that in that year the world would come to an end. A nat-
ural result of this feeling was that the church became
more active, and that great numbers of lives of saints
appeared, and sermons, or homilies, as they were called.

These homilies were not so uninteresting as their
name sounds. To hold the attention of the people, the
preachers were forced to be picturesque, and
they gave in minute detail most vivid descrip-
tions of places, saints, and demons about which they
knew absolutely nothing. The saints were pictured as
of fair complexion, with light hair and blue eyes. Satan
was described as having dark, shaggy hair ^u^j^
hanging down to his ankles. Sparks flew from 955?-io20.
his eyes and sulphurous flames from his mouth. The
most famous writer of these homilies was Mliric, abbot
of Ensham.

In the first two centuries after Alfred, the old poems
composed in the north were rewritten in the form in
which they have come down to us, that is, in Reciting
the language of the south, of the West Saxons; of old
but little was produced that could be called '°™^'
poetry. The Chronicle was continued, and one or two
bold battle-songs were inserted. A few rude ballads were

22 ENGLAND'S LITERATURE [nth Cent.

composed, with little of the old alliteration, and with only
a beginning of appreciation of rhyme. One of these was
the work of a king, Canute the Dane, who became ruler
of England in 1017 : —

Merie sungen the munaches binnan Ely
Canute's Tha Cnut ching reuther by :

poem. " Rotheth cnites noer the land

And here ye thes Munaches sseng."

Joyously sang the monks in Ely
When Canute the king rowed by.
'' Row, knights, nearer the land.
And hear ye the song of the monks.''

Glancing back over the literature of England, we can
see that it had been much affected by the influence of
Influence oi ^^^ Celts. From the sixth century to the ninth
the Celts, the Christian schools of Ireland were famous
throughout Europe, and the Irish missionaries taught
the religion of Christ to the Northumbrians. The
Teutons and the Celts were not at all alike. The Teu-
tons thought somewhat slowly. They were given to
pondering on difficult subjects and trying to explain
puzzling questions. The Celts thought and felt swiftly ;
a word would make them smile, and a word would arouse
their sympathy. The Teutons liked stories of brave
chiefs who led their thegns in battle and shared with
them the treasures that were won, of thegns who were
faithful to their lord, and who at his death heaped up
a great mound of earth to keep his name in lasting re-
membrance. The Celts, too, were fond of stories, but
stories that were full of bright and beautiful descriptions,
of birds of brilliant coloring, of marvellous secrets, and
of mysterious voices. They liked battle scenes wherein
strange mists floated about the warriors and weird phan-
toms were dimly seen in the gathering darkness.

irthCent.] EARLY ENGLI'SH PERIOD 23

To say just when and where the Celtic influence
touched English literature is not easy ; but, comparing
the grave, stern resolution of Beowulf, with the imagi-
native beauty, the graceful fancy, and the tender senti-
ment of the Dream of the Rood, and the picturesque
and witty descriptions of the homilies, one can but feel
that there is something in the literature of the English
Teutons which did not come from themselves, and which
can be accounted for in no other way than by their con-
tact with the Celts.

15. William the Norman conquers England. The be-
ginnings of a noble literature had been made in England,
but the inspiration had become scanty. The English
writer needed not only to read something better than he
had yet produced, but even more he needed to know
a race to whom that " something better " was familiar.
In 1066, an event occurred that brought him both mfeil
and models : William the Norman conquered England
and became its king.

Centuries V-XI
the early english period

1. Poetry i. Prose

Beowulf. Bede.

Widsith. Alfred.

Dear's Lament. Anglo-Saxon Chronicle.

Cjedmon. Lives of saints and homilies.
Cynewulf.

SUMMARY

^ I. Poetry

Our English ancestors lived in Jutland and the northern
part of what is now Germany. They were savage warriors,
but loved song and poetry. After their feasts the scop, or

24 ENGLAND'S LITERATURE [jth-iith Cent.

poet, sang of the adventures of some hero. Little by little
these songs were welded together and became an epic. One
epic, Beowulf, has been preserved, though much changed by
the teachings of the missionaries who came to England in
597. Anglo-Saxon verse was marked by alliteration instead of
rhyme.

Besides Beowulf, little remains of the Anglo-Saxon poetry
except what is contained in the Exeter Book and the Vercelli
Book.

The first poet whom we know by name was the monk
Caedmon (seventh century), whose chief work was a paraphrase
of the Scriptures. The greatest of the early poets was
"Cynewulf (eighth century).

2. Prose

One of the most famous pieces of English prose, a translation
of the Gospel according to St. yohn, was written by the monk
Bede (seventh and eighth centuries). He wrote on many sub-
jects, but his most valuable work is his Ecclesiastical History.

Alcuin (eighth century) carried on English scholarship in
France. England was harassed by the Danes, but after King
Alfred (ninth century) had brought about peace, Alcuin's
pupils became teachers of the English.

King Alfred made several valuable translations. The pre-
face of one of them is the earliest piece of English prose that
we still possess. The Anglo-Saxon Chronicle was formally
begun in his reign. ^

The death of Alfred and the renewed attacks of the Danes
retarded the literary progress of England. The preaching of
Dunstan and the near approach of the year 1000 called out
lives of saints, and homilies written by M\ix\c and others.
Old poems were rewritten, and rude ballads were composed.
The influence of .the Celts for beauty, fancy, and wit may be
seen in both poetry and prose. English literature had made
a good beginning, but needed better models.

CHAPTER II

OENTUEIES XII AND XHI
THE NORMAN-ENGLISH PERIOD

16. Advantages of the conquest. Nothing better
could have happened to England than this Norman con-
quest. The Englishmen of the eleventh century wer£
courageous and persistent, but the spark of inspiration
that gives a people the mastery of itself and the leader-
ship of other nations was wanting. England was like
a great vessel rolling in the trough of the sea, turning
broadside to every wave. The country must fall into
the hands of either the barbaric north or the civilized
south. Happily for England, the victor was of the south.

The Normans were Teutons, who had fallen upon
France as their kinsmen had fallen upon England ; but
the invaders of France had been thrown among j],^
a race superior to them in manners, language, wormms.
and literature. These northern pirates gave a look
about them, and straightway they began to follow the
customs of the people whom they had conquered. They
embraced the Christian religion and built churches and
monasteries as if they had been to the manner born.
They forgot their own language and adopted that of
France. They intermarried with the French ; and in a
century and a half a new race had arisen with the brav-
ery and energy of the Northmen and an aptitude for
even more courtly manners and even wider literary cul-
ture than the French themselves.

26 ENGLAND'S LITERATURE [I2th-I4th Cent.

17. The struggle between the French and English
languages. Such were the Norman conquerors of Eng-
land. How would their coming affect the language and
the literature of the subject country ? It was three hun-
dred years before the question was fully answered. At
first the Norman spoke French, the Englishman spoke
English, and both nations used Latin in the church ser-
vice. Little by little, the Norman found it convenient to
know something of the language spoken by the masses of
the people around him. Little by little, the Englishman
acquired some knowledge of the language of his rulers.
Words that were nearly alike in both tongues were con-
fused in pronunciation, and as for spelling, — a man's
mode of spelling was his private property, and he did
with his own as he would. It is hard to trace the history
of the two languages in England until we reach the
fourteenth century, and then there are some few land-
marks. In 1300, Oxford allowed people who had suits at
law to plead in "any language generally understood."
Fifty years later, English was taught to some extent in
the schools. In 1362, it became the official language of
the courts. In 1385, John of Trevisa wrote, "In all the
grammar schools of England children give up French
and construe and learn in English, and have thereby
advantage on one side and disadvantage on another.
Their advantage is that they learn their grammar in less
time than children were wont to do ; the disadvantage
is that now grammar-school children know no more
French than their left heel knows." In 1400, the Earl
of March offered his aid to the king and wrote his let-
ter in English, making no further apology for using
his native tongue than the somewhat independent one,
" It is more clear to my understanding than Latin or
French."

I2th-I3th Cent] THE NORMAN-ENGLISH PERIOD 2/

In this contest, three centuries long, English had come
off victor, but it was a different English from that of
earlier times. Hundreds of new nouns, verbs. The now
and adjectives had entered it, but they had ^"bUsh-
been forced to wear the English garb. To speak broadly,
verbs had adopted English endings; adjectives had
adopted English comparisons ; nouns had given up their
case-endings and also their gender in great degree, for
the simplest remedy for the frequent conflict between
the English and French gender was to drop all distinc-
tions of gender so far as inanimate objects were con-
cerned.

How did the coming of the Norman affect the litera-
ture of England ? As soon as the shock of conquest was
somewhat past, the English unconsciously began, in the
old Teutonic fashion, to look about them and see what
ways worthier than their own they could adopt. They
had refused to become a French-speaking people, but was
there anything in Norman literature and literary methods
worthy of their imitation, or rather assimilation ?

18. Opening of the universities and. the crusades.
The Normans had a taste for history, they were a reli-
gious people, and they thoroughly enjoyed story-telling.
Two other influences were brought to bear upon the
English : the opening of the universities and the cru-
sades. The first made it possible for a man to obtain
an education even if he had no desire to become a priest.
The second threw open the treasures of the world.
Thousands set out on these expeditions to rescue the
tomb of Christ from the power of the unbelievers. Those
who returned brought with them a wealth of new ideas.
They had seen new countries and new manners. They
had learned to think new thoughts.

The opening of the universities made it possible for

28 ENGLAND'S LITERATURE [13th Cent.

chronicles to be written, not only by monks in the mon-
asteries, but by men who lived in the midst of the
events that they described. Chronicles were
no longer mere annals; they became full of
detail, vivid, interesting.

19. Devotional books. The religious energy of the
Normans and the untiring zeal of the preachers strength-
ened the English interest in religious matters. The
sacred motive of the crusades intensified it, and books
of devotion appeared, not in Latin, like the chronicles,
but in simple, every-day English. One of the best known
The of these was the Ormtihim, a book which gives

oimuium, ^ metrical paraphrase of the Gospels as used
1215-1220. in the church service, each portion followed
by a metrical sermon. Its author kept a sturdy hold
upon his future fame in his couplet, —

Thiss boc iss nemmnedd Orrmulum
Forrthi thatt Orm itt worhhte.

He was equally determined that his lines should be pro-
nounced properly, and so after every short vowel he
doubled the consonant. He even gave advance orders
to whoever should copy his work : —

And whoso shall will to write this book again another time, I bid
him that he write it correctly, so as this book teacheth him, en-
tirely as it is upon this first pattern, with all such rhymes as here
are set with just as many words, and that he look well that he write
a letter twice where it upon this book is written in that wise.'

Another of these books of devotion was the Ancren

„^ . Riwle, a little prose work whose author is un-

Tne Anoren ^

Riwie, known. Its object was to guide three sisters

aiiouti225. ^j^Q wished to withdraw from the world, though

without taking the vows of the convent. It is almost

' Translated in Morley's English Writers, iii.

I2th Cent.] THE NORMAN-ENGLISH PERIOD 2g

Sternly strict, but so pure and natural and earnest that
it was deeply loved and appreciated.

20. Romances. The Norman delight in stories and
the new ideas given by the crusades aroused in the Eng-
lish a keen love of romance. The conquest itself was
romantic. The chivalry introduced by the Normans was

~~

^<^^M

M

ir

I

m

wfWs

(

mi^M

m

^U!tb

SIR LAUNCELOT AND A HERMIT

From an illuminated MS. of 13 16

picturesque. It adorned the stern Saxon idea of duty
with richness and grace. Simple old legends took form
and beauty. Four great cycles of romance
were produced ; that is, four groups of stories cycles oi
told in metre, each centred about some one "°'^''*'
hero. One was about Charlemagne, one about Alexan-
der the Great, one told the tale of the fall of Troy, and
one pictured King Arthur and his knights. This last
cycle had a curious history. Before the middle ^^^jj^^ ^
of the twelfth century, one Geoffrey of Mon- Monmoutii,
mouth, a Welsh bishop, wrote in Latin an ex- ^"-1164.
ceedingly fanciful History of the Kings of Britain. It

30 ENGLAND'S LITERATURE [13th Cent.

was translated into French by a clerk named Wace ;

was carried to France ; wandered over the Continent,

where it was smoothed and beautified, and gained the

stories of Launcelot and the Holy Grail ; then returned

to England, and was put into English verse by the

English priest Layamon. He called it the
Layamon's or j

Brut, about Brut, or story of Brutus, a fabled descendant
^^°^' of ^neas, who was claimed to have landed on

the shores of England in prehistoric times. This cycle
was the special favorite of the English. The marvellous
adventures of King Arthur's knights interested those
who had been thrilled by the stories of returning cru-
saders ; and the quest of the knights for but one glance
of that Holy Thing, the Grail, was in full accord with the
spirit of the crusades, an earthly journey with a spiritual
gain as its object and reward.

The Chronicle came to an end in 1 1 54. The Ormulum,
the Ancren Riwle, and the Brut all belong to the early
part of the thirteenth century. They are English in
Frenoii their feeling; but as the years passed, French
romances, romances were sung throughout the land, — in
French where French was understood, in English trans-
lation elsewhere. One of the best liked of these was
King Horn. Its story is : —

The kingdom of Horn's father is invaded by the
King Horn, Saracens, who kill the father and put Horn

proDaiiiy and his companions to sea. King Avlmar re-
altor 1250. . ,, 1 , ^, ,

ceives them, and orders them to be taught

various duties. Of Horn he says : —

And tech him to harpe
With his nayles fcharpe,
Bivore me to kerve
And of the cupe lerve, —

the usual accomplishments of the page. The king's

1 3th Cent.] THE NORMAN-ENGLISH PERIOD 3 1

daughter, Rymenhild, falls in love with Horn ; and no
wonder, if the description of him is correct..

He was bright fo the glas,
. He was whit fo the flur,
Role red was his colur,
In none kinge-riche
Nas non his iliche.

He goes in quest of adventures, to prove himself worthy
of Rymenhild. The course of their love does not run
smooth. King Aylmar presents a most eligible king as
his daughter's suitor ; Horn's false friend tries to win
her ; she is shut up in an island castle ; but Horn, in
the disguise of a gleeman, makes his way into the castle
and wins his Rymenhild. He kills his false friend ; he
finds that his mother still lives ; he regains his father's
kingdom ; and so the tale ends. This story is thoroughly
French in its treatment of woman. In Beowulf, the
wife of the lord is respected and honored, she is her
lord's friend and helpmeet ; but there is no romance
about the matter. To picture the smile of woman as the
reward of valor, and her hand as the prize of victory,
was left to the verses of those poets who were familiar
with the glamour of knighthood.

21. The Norman-English love of nature. This new
race, the Norman-English, enjoyed romance, they liked
the new and the unwonted, but there was ever a warm
corner in their hearts for nature. The dash of the
waves, the keen breath of the northern wind, the coming
of spring, the song of the cuckoo, the gleam of the
daisy, — they loved them all; and in the midst of the
romances of knights .and Saracens and foreign Natme
countries, they felt a tenderness toward what ^'^°''
was their very own, the world of nature. Simple, tender,
graceful little lyric poems slipped in shyly among the

♦ 32 ENGLAND'S LITERATURE [13th Cent.

more pretentious histories, religious handbooks, and
paraphrases. Here are bits from them : —

Sumer is icumen in,

Llude sing cuccu !
Groweth sed, and bloweth med,

And springth the wude nu,
Sing, cuccu!

or this : —

Dayes-eyes in the dales.
Notes sweete of nightingales,
Each fowl song singeth,

or this, which has a touch of the French love ro-
mance : —

Blow, northern wind,

Send thou me my suetyng.

Blow, northern wind,
Blow, blow, blow !

22. The Robin Hood ballads. Not only love of na-
ture but love of freedom and love of justice inspired the
ballads of Robin Hood, many of which must have origi-
nated during this period, though probably they did not
take their present form till much later. They are crude,
simple stories in rhyme of the exploits of Robin Hood
and his men, and they come straight from the heart of
the Englishman, that bold, defiant heart which always
beat more fiercely at the thought of injustice. Robin
and his friends are exiles because they have dared to
shoot the king's deer, and they have taken up their
abode in " merry Sherwood." There they waylay the
sheriff and the "proud bishop," and force them to open
their well-filled purses and count out the gold pieces
that are to make life easier for many a poor man. These
ballads were not for palaces or for monasteries, they
were for the English people ; and the ballad-singers

I3th Cent.] THE NORMAN-ENGLISH PERIOD 33

went about from village to village, singing to one group
after another, adding a rhyme, or a stanza, or an adventure
at every repetition. Gradually the tales of the "cour-
teous outlaw " were forming themselves into a cycle of
romance, but the days
of the printing-press
came too soon for its
completion. Whether
Robin was ever a
"real, live hero " is
not of the least con-
sequence. The point
of interest is that the
ballads which picture
his adventures are
the free, bold expres-
sion of the sincere feelings of the Englishman in the
early years of his forced submission to Norman rule.

23. Value of the Norman-English writings. The
writings of the first two centuries after the Norman con-
quest are, as a whole, of small worth. With the increas-
ing number of translations, such a world of literature
was thrown open to the English that they were dazzled
with excess of light. Daringly, but half timidly, they
ventured to step forward, to try one thing after another.
No one could expect finish and conipleteness ; the most ■
that could be looked for was some beginning of poetry
that should show imagination, of prose that should show
power. So ended the thirteenth century, in a kind of
morning twilight of literature. The fourteenth was the
time of the dawning, the century of Chaucer. ■

A BAND OF MINSTRELS

From a fourteenth-century MS.

34 ENGLAND'S LITERATURE [i2th-i3th Cent.

Centuries XII and XIII

THE NORMAN-ENGLISH PERIOD

Ormulum. King Arthur.

Ancreii Riwle. Lay anion's Brut.

Cycles of romance. French romances.

Charlemagne. King Horn.

Alexander. Nature lyrics.

Fall of Troy. Robin Hood ballads.

SUMMARY

The Norman Conquest affected both language and litera-
ture. English, French, and Latin were used in England ; but
English gradually prevailed, until in 1362 it became the official
language of the courts. Many new words had been added
and its grammar simplified.

The literary influence of the Normans was for history, re-
ligious writings, and story-telling. Two other influences helped
to arouse the English to mental activity, — the opening of the
universities and the crusades.

The chief immediate literary results of this intellectual
stimulus were the chronicles, now written by men who were
not monks, and books of devotion. Among the latter was the
Ormulum and the Ancren Riwle.

Love of story-telling manifested itself in four cycles of ro-
mance, centring about Charlemagne, Alexander the Great,
the fall of Troy, and King Arthur. This last cycle went
through the hands of Geoffrey of Monmouth, Wace, Layamon,
and others. French romances were popular, especially King
Horn.

Love of nature inspired simple, sincere lyrics j love of free-
dom and justice inspired the Robin Hood ballads.

The writings of the twelfth and thirteenth centuries are of
little intrinsic value, but foreshadow better work to come.

•

CHAPTER III

CENTURY XIV

CHAUCER'S CENTURY

24. England in the fourteenth century. The four-
teenth century was not only the dawning of modern
English literature, but it was the dawning of Thebogin-
English thought. Before this time kings had ^^^°i
thought how to keep their thrones ; barons had tJionght.
thought how to prevent kings from becoming too power-
ful ; priests and monks had thought, sometimes how to
teach the people, sometimes how to get the most possible
from them ; but the masses of the English people never
seemed to think of anything that was of interest to them
all until about the middle of the fourteenth century.

One special reason for this beginning of English
thought was that many thousands of Englishmen had
become more free than ever before. England had long
been controlled by what is known as the feu- Tteioudai
dal system ; that is, a tenure of land on condi- system,
tion of service. The cultivated portions of England
were divided into great manors, or farms, and each
was held by some rich man on condition of giving his
service to the king. On these manors lived the masses
of the people, the villeins, or peasants. They were
obliged as part of their duty to work for their lord a cer-
tain number of days every year, and they were forbid-
den to leave the manor. During the crusades, the lords
who went to the Holy Land needed a great deal of
money, and they often allowed their tenants to give

36 ENGLAND'S LITERATURE [14th Cent.

them money instead of service. Sometimes they sold
them land. These crusades came to an end in the thir-
teenth century, and even during the early years of the
fourteenth the peasants were beginning, to feel some-
what independent.

In 1338, the Hundred Years' War broke out between
England and France. In 1346, an important battle
Changed was won at Cr^cy, not by English knights
condition q^ horseback with swords and lances, but by

of the ^ . '

peasants. English peasants on foot with no weapons ex-
cept bows and arrows. Then the peasants began to say
to one another, " We can protect ourselves. Why should
we remain on manors and depend upon knights in
armor to fight for us .'' " Following close upon this bat-
tle was a terrible disease, called the Black Death, which
swept over England. When it had gone, half of the
people of the land were dead. Many of those peasants
who survived ran away from the manors, for now that
there were so few workmen, they could earn high wages
anywhere. Moreover, weaving had been introduced,
and if they did not wish to do farm-work, they could sup-
port themselves in any city. The king and his counsel-
lors made severe laws against this running away ; but
they could not well be enforced, and they only made the
peasants angry with all who were richer or more power-
ful than themselves. They began to question, " How
are these lords any greater folk than we .' How do they
deserve wealth any more than we .' They came from
Adam and Eve just as we did."

The masses of the people, then, were angry with the
Discontent nobles and the other wealthy men. They were
with the also discontented with the church. After the
Black Death there was hardly a person in Eng-
land who was not mourning the loss of dear friends. Es-

i4th Cent.] CHAUCER'S CENTURY 37

pecially the poor longed for the comfort that the church
should have given them ; but the church paid little atten-
tion to their needs. Many of the clergy who received
the income from English benefices lived in Italy, and
had no further interest in England than to get as much
from the land as possible. While the peasants were in
such poverty, vast sums of money were being sent to
these Italian priests, for fully half the land was in the
hands of the church. The church did less and less for
men, while the vision of what it might do was growing
clearer. Thousands of these unhappy, discontented pea-
sants marched up to London to demand of the Tte
king their freedom and other rights and privi- Revolt. '
leges. This was the Peasants' Revolt of 1381. i38i.
Their demands were not granted, and the revolters were
severely punished.

In this century of unrest and change there were four
authors whose writings are characteristic of j.^^^

the manner in which four classes of people re- prominent

, , , . ~, autbors.

garded the state of matters. They were:

I. " Sir John Mandeville," who simply accepted things as
they were ; 2. William Langland, or Langley, who criti-
cised and wished to reform ; 3. Wyclif, who criticised and
wished to overthrow ; and 4. Chaucer, the good-humored
aristocrat, who saw the faults of his times, but gently
ridiculed them rather than preached against them.

25. The Voyages and Travels of Sir John Mande-
ville, Kt. This account of distant countries and strange
peoples purports to have been written by Sir John him-
self. He claims to be an English knight who has often
journeyed to Jerusalem, and who puts forth this volume
to serve as a guide-book to those wishing to make the
pilgrimage. The introduction seems so " real " that it
is a pity to be obliged to admit that the work is prob-

38 ENGLAND'S LITERATURE [14th Cent.

ably a combination of a few travellers' stories and a
vast amount of imagination, and that, worse than all,
there never was any " Sir John." It was first written
in French, and then translated into English either in

SIR JOHN MANDEVILLE ON HIS VOYAGE TO PALESTINE

From an old MS. in the British Museum

the fourteenth century or the early part of the fifteenth.
The traveller has most marvellous experiences. He finds
that in the Dead Sea iron will float, while a feather will
drop to the bottom. " And these be things against kind
[nature]," says Sir John. He sees in Africa people who
have but one foot. "They go so fast that it is marvel,"
he declares, "and the foot is so large that it shadow-
eth all the body against the sun when they will lie
and rest themselves." Sometimes he brings in a bit of
science. From his observations of the North Star he

i4th Cent.] CHAUCER'S CENTURY 39

reasons that" Men may go all round the world and return
to their country ; and always they would find men, lands,
and isles, as well as in our part of the world." When
he touches on religious customs, he becomes especially in-
teresting, for in the midst of the unrest and discontent
of his age he has no fault to find with the laws or the
church ; and with all his devotion to the church, he has
no blame for those whose belief differs from his own.
" They fail in some articles of our faith," is his only
criticism of the Moslems.

26. William Langland, 1332-1400. William Lang-
land wrote the Vision of Piers Plowman. Very little
is known of Langland save that he was proba- The vision
bly a clerk of the church. He knew the lives °'^'"*
of the poor so well that it is possible he was first
the son of a peasant living on a manor, and be- x362-°
came free on declaring his intention to enter i363-
the service of the church. His Vision comes to him
one May morning when, as he says — in the alliterative
verse of Beowidf, but in words much more like modern
English : —

I was wery forwandred ' and went me to reste
Under a brode banke bi a bornes ^ side,
And as I lay and lened and loked in the wateres,
I slombred in a slepyng ; it sweyned ^ so merye.

In his dream he sees " a faire felde full of folke." There
are plowmen, hermits, men who buy and sell, minstrels,
jugglers, beggars, pilgrims, lords and ladies, a king, a
jester, and many others. They are all absorbed in their
own affairs, but Repentance preaches to them so ear-
nestly about their sins that finally they all vow to make
a pilgrimage to the shrine of Truth. No one can tell
them where to find the shrine. At last they ask Piers
' weary with wandering. ^ brook's. ' sounded.

40 ENGLAND'S LITERATURE [14th Cent.

the Plowman to go with them and show them the way.
" If I had plowed and sowed my half-acre, I would go
with you," he replied. The pilgrims agree to help him,
and he sets them all to work. While they are working,
God sends a pardon for them ; but a priest who sees it
declares, that it is no pardon, for it says only that if men
do well, they shall be saved.

This ends the vision, but Piers dreams again. " Do
well, do better, do best," is the keynote of this dream.

"Doweu ^^^ '^^^^ ^^^^ ^^° '® moral and upright; he
40 Setter, does better who is filled with love and kind-
ness ; he does best who follows most closely
the life of the Christ. Finally, Piers is seen in a halo
of light, for this leader who works and loves and strives
to save others represents the Christ himself.

This work is the last important poem written in the
old alliterative metre of Beowulf. It is an allegory, and
there are in it such characters as Lady Meed (bribery).
Holy Church, Conscience; Sir Work-well-with-thine-
hand. Sir Goodfaith Gowell, Guile, and Reason. Rea-
son's two horses are Advise-thee-before and Suffer-till-
I-see-my-time. The liking for allegories came from the
French, but the puzzling over hard questions of life and
destiny was one of the characteristics of the early Teu-
tons. Langland saw the trouble and wrong around him ;
he saw the hard lives of the poor and the laws that
oppressed them ; he saw just where the church failed to
teach and to comfort them ; yet this fourteenth-century
Puritan never thought of revolt. Some few changes in
the laws, more earnestness and sincerity in the church,
and above all, an effort on the part of each to "do
best," — and the eager reformer believed that happiness
would smile upon the world of England. In 1361, only
one year before this poem was written, the Black Death

I324-I384]

CHAUCER'S CENTURY

41

had for the second time swept over the land. For the
second time a great wave of hopeless sorrow and help-
lessness had overwhelmed the hearts of the people.
Langland had put into words what was in every one's
thoughts. It is no wonder that his poem was read by
thousands; that men saw more clearly than ever the

"<)>:'

ii \

^■fni

ir I

7

JOHN WYCLIF

evils of the times; that they began to look about them

for strength to bear their lives, for help to make them

better.

27. John Wyclif, 1324-1384. The strength and

help were already on the way, for while Lang- wycui's

^ , . iT^' ii- translation

land was planning some additions to his poem, oithoBiDie.

a learned clergyman named John Wyclif was "so.

translating the Bible into the language of the people.

42 ENGLAND'S LITERATURE [1364-1384

Wyclif was a very interesting man. Until he was about
forty, he was a quiet student and preacher. Suddenly
he appeared in public as the opponent of the pope him-
self. The pope claimed that England had not paid him
his proper tax for many years. " We need the money,"
declared Wyclif, "and surely a people has a right to
self-preservation." The king and the clergy supported
the bold patriot, and they were not at all annoyed while
he preached against the sins of the monks ; but when he
was not satisfied with calling for the purification of the
church, and for better lives on the part of the clergy and
the monks, but began to preach and write against tran-
substantiation and other doctrines, they were indignant.
The authorities in England tried to arrest him, and the
pope commanded that he be brought to Rome ; but still
he sent his tracts over the length and breadth of the
country. He wrote no more in Latin, but in simple,
straightforward English that the plain people could
understand. Such is the English of his translation of
the Scriptures. The following is a specimen of its lan-
guage : —

Blessid be pore men in spirit: for the kyngdom of hevenes is
herum. Blessid ben mylde men : for thei schulen weelde the
erthe. Blessid ben thei that mournen : for thei schal be coumfortid.
Blessid be thei that hungren and thirsten after rigtwisnesse : for
thei schal be fulfillid. Blessid ben merciful men : for thei schal
gete mercy. Blessid ben thei that ben of clene herte : for thei
schulen se god : Blessid ben pesible men : for thei schulen be
clepidgoddis children. Blessid ben thei that sufEren persecucioun
for rightwisnesse : for the kyngdom of heavens is hern.

Many churchmen honestly believed that it was wrong
to give the Bible to those who were not scholars, lest
they should not understand it aright ; and even more
were either shocked or angry at Wyclif's daring to crit-

1340-1400] CHAUCER'S CENTURY 43

icise the teachings of the church and the lives of the
clergy. Persecution arose against the preacher peisoonuon
and his followers. He was protected by power- "'^y"'-
ful friends ; but, forty years after his death, his grave
was opened, his bones burned, and the ashes tossed
scornfully into the river Swift. It was easier, however,
for his opponents to fling away his ashes than to destroy
his influence upon the people and upon the language.
His Bible was in manuscript, of course, because printing
had not yet been invented ; but it was read and reread
by thousands, and the plain, strong words used by him-
self and his assistants became a part of the every-day
language. Moreover, this translation showed that an
English sentence need not be loose and rambling, but
might be as clear and definite as a Latin sentence; that
English as well as Latin could express close reasoning
and keen argument.

28. Geoffrey Chaucer, 13409-1400. While Wyclif
was preaching at Oxford and Langland had not yet
begun to work on his Vision, a young page was grow-
ing up in the house of the Duke of Clarence who was
destined to become the prince of story-tellers in verse.
This young Geoffrey Chaucer was the son of a wine
merchant of London. He lived like.other courtiers ; he
went to France to help fight his king's battles, was taken
prisoner, was ransomed and set free. He wrote some
love verses in the French fashion and translated some
French poems, but he would have been somewhat amazed
if any one had told him that he would be known five hun-
dred years later as the " Father of English Poetry."

By 1 372, the young courtier had become a man " of
some respect," and the king sent him on diplomatic mis-
sions to various countries, twice at least to Italy. The
literature of Italy was far in advance of that of England,

44 ENGLAND'S LITERATURE [1372-1400

and now the works of Dante, Petrarch, and Boccaccio

were open to the poet diplomat. Finally, Chaucer was

again in England ; and when he wrote, he wrote like an

Englishman, but like an Englishman who was familiar

with the best that France and Italy had to give.

29. The Canterbury Tales. A collection of stories

written by Boccaccio was probably what suggested to

Chaucer the writing of a similar collection.
Boccaccio . , , , -

and Boccaccio s stories are told by a company 01

Chaucer. friends who have fled from the plague-stricken
city of Florence to a villa in the country. Chaucer made
a plan that allowed even more variety,' for his stories
are told by a company who were going on a pilgrimage
to the shrine of Thomas a Becket at Canterbury. Boc-
caccio's people were of nearly the same rank ; but on
a pilgrimage all sorts of folk were sure to meet, and
therefore Chaucer was perfectly free to introduce any
kind of person that he chose.

Making a pilgrimage was a common thing in those
Fiigiim- days, and people went for various reasons : some
ages. |.Q pray and make offerings to the saint that

they believed had helped them in sickness or trouble,
some to petition for a favor, some for the pleasure of
making a journey, ^d some simply because others were
going. Travelling alone was not agreeable and not
always safe, therefore these pilgrims often set out in com-
panies, and a merry time they made of it. Some even
took minstrels and bagpipes to amuse them on the road.

The Canterbury Tales is Chaucer's best work. It be-
gins on a bright spring morning, when he had gone to
the Tabard Inn in Southwark for the first stage in his
pilgrimage to Canterbury. Just at night a party of
twenty-nine rode up to the door of the inn, and the
solitary traveller was delighted to find that they, too,

1372-1400]

CHAUCER'S CENTURY

45

had set out on the same errand. There was nothing
shy or unsocial about this pilgrim, and before bedtime
came, he had made friends with them all, and had agreed
to join their party. A very cheerful party it was, and
these good-natured travellers were pleased with the
rooms, the stables, the supper, the wine, and especially
with the landlord, Harry Bailey, whom the poet calls
"a merry man." After supper the host tells them that
he never before saw so cheerful a company together at
his inn. Then he talks about their journey. He says he
knows well that they are not planning to make a gloomy
time of it.

For trewely confort ne myrthe is noon
To ride by the weye doumb as a stoon,

he declares ; and he proposes that each one of them shall

tell two stories going and two more returning, and that

when they have come back, a supper shall be given to

the one who has told the

best story. This pleases

the pilgrims, and they are

even more pleased when

the cheery landlord offers

to go with them, to be their

guide and to judge the

merit of the tales.

Then come the stories
themselves. There are only
twenty-five of them, and
three of those are incom-
plete, for Chaucer never
carried out his full plan.
They are of all kinds. There are stories of knights and
monks ; of giants, fairies, miracles ; of the crafty fox who

THE PRIORESS

From the EUesraere MS., which is the best
as well as one of the oldest of the Chau-
cer MSS.

46

ENGLAND'S LITERATURE [1372-1400

ran away with Chanticleer in his bag, but was persuaded
by the no less crafty rooster to drop the bag and make
a speech of defiance to his pursuers. There are sto-
ries of magic swords that
would cut through any
kind of armor, and there
is a tale of " faire Eme-
lye," the beloved of two
young knights, one of
whom was in prison and
could gaze upon her only
from afar, while the other
was forbidden on pain of
death to enter the city
wherein she dwelt.

After the fashion of his
day, Chaucer took the
plots of his tales from
wherever he might find them, but it is his way of tell-
oiauoer's ing the stories that is so fascinating. We can-
*'^'*- not help fancying that he is talking directly to

us, for he drops in so many little confidential "asides."
" I have told you about the company of pilgrims," he
says, " and now it is time to tell you what we did that
night, and after that I will talk about our journey."
At the end of a subject he is fond of saying, "That
is all. There is no more to say." He is equally con-
fidential when he describes his various characters, as
he does in the Prologue before he begins his story-
telling. It was no easy task to describe each one of a
large company so accurately that we can almost see
them, and so interestingly that we are in no haste to
come to the stories ; but Chaucer was successful. He
describes the knight, who had just returned from a jour-

THE WIFE OF EATH

From the Harleian MS.

I 372-1400]

CHAUCER'S CENTURY

47

ney, and was so eager to make his grateful pilgrimage
that he had set out with his short cassock chancor'a
still stained from his coat of mail ; the dainty "''"a"**"-
young prioress, who had such perfect table-manners that
she never dipped her fingers deep in the gravy — an
important matter to table-mates before forks were in
use — or let a drop fall on her breast ; the sailor, whose
beard had been shaken by many a tempest ; the phy-
sician, who had not his equal in the whole world ; the
woman of Bathe, with her
"scarlet red" stockings,
her soft new shoes, and
her hat as broad as a
buckler ; and the gay
young squire, whose gown
" with sieves longp and
wyde" was so richly em-
broidered that it looked
like a meadow " al ful of
fresshe floures whyte and
reed e. " C h aucer gives us
a picture of the merry
company, but more than
that, he shows us what
kind of people they were.
He tells us their faults in
satire as keen as it is good-natured. The monk likes
hunting better than obeying strict convent rules, and
Chaucer says of him slyly that when he rode, men could
hear the little bells on his bridle jingle quite as loud
as the bell of the chapel. The learned physician was
somewhat of a miser, and Chaucer whispers cannily, —

For gold in phisik is a cordial,
Therefore he lovede gold in special.

THE SQUIRE

From the EUesmere MS.

48

ENGLAND^S LITERATURE [1372-1400

THE PARSON
From the Ellesmere MS.

The two characters for whom the poet has most sym-
pathy are the thin and threadbare Oxford student, who

would rather have books
than gorgeous robes or
musical instruments ; and
the earnest, faithful par-
ish priest, who " Christes
Gospel trewely wolde
preche," and who never
hired some one to take
charge of his parish while
he slipped away to live an
easy life in a brotherhood.
This keen - eyed poet,
with his warm- sympathy,
could hardly have helped
loving nature, and he can picture a bright, dewy May
morning so clearly that we can almost see

ChflllCBT S

loveoi "the silver dropes hangyng on the leves."
natuie. -^^ \iked May and sunshine and birds and
lilies and roses. He liked the daisy, and when he
caught sight of the first one, he wrote : —

And down on knees anon right I me set,
And as I could this freshe flower I grette,
Kneeling always till it inclosed was
Upon the small and soft and sweete grass.

30. Death of Chaucer, 1400. Chaucer's life was not
all sunshine, but he was always sunny and bright. He
writes as if he knew so many pleasant things that he
could not help taking up his pen to tell us of them. His
death occurred in 1400, and that date is counted as the
end of the old literature and the beginning of the new.
Chaucer well deserves the title, " Father of English
Poetry;" but when we read his poems, we forget his

1372-1400] CHAUCER'S CENTURY 49

titles and his learning, and think of him only as the
best of story-tellers.

We owe gratitude to Chaucer not only because he left
us some delightful poems, but because he broke away
from the old Anglo-Saxon metre and because he wrote
in English. The Canterbury Tales begins : —

Whan that Aprille with hise shoures soote

The droghte of March hath perced to the roote,

And bathed every veyne in swich licour Cbaacer'a

Of which vertu engendred is the flour ; language.

Whan Zephi'rus eek with his swete breeth

Inspired hath in every holt and heeth

The tendre croppes, and the yonge sonne

Hath in the Ram his halfe cours y-ronne,

And smale foweles maken melodye

That slepen al the nyght with open eye, —

So priketh hem Nature in hir corages, —

Thanne longen folk to goon on pilgrimages.

This is written in the 5-
beat line, which gives
more freedom than the
4-beat line of Beowulf.
Alliteration is not em-
ployed to mark the ac-
cented syllables, but only
to ornament the verse.
Chaucer used many
French words and often
retained the French end-
ings ; but he used them
so easily and so appropri-
ately that they seemed to
become a part of the lan-
guage. Another service

° ° CHAUCER

and an even greater one From the Eiusmere ms.

so ENGLAND'S LITERATURE [14th Cent.

he rendered to the English tongue. People in different
parts of England spoke in English, to be sure, but in
widely differing dialects. Chaucer wrote in what was
known as the Midland dialect, and his work was so good
and so well liked that it had a powerful influence to Jix
the language ; that is, to make his writings and his
vocabulary models for the authors who succeeded him.

Century XIV

CHAUCER'S CENTURY

"Sir John Mandeville.'' John Wyclif.

William Langland. Geoffrey Chaucer.

SUMMARY

The weakening of the feudal system brought about the
dawning of English thought. The causes of this weakening
were : —

1. The lords, wishing to become crusaders, often accepted
money instead of work.

2. In the Hundred Years' War the peasants discovered
their power.

3. The Black Death lessened the number of workers, and
enabled men to find farm-work where they chose and to de-
mand what wages they liked.

4. The introduction of weaving made it possible for pea-
sants to support themselves without working on the land.

Harsh laws aroused discontent with the government ; the
negligence of the clergy aroused discontent with the church.
This discontent showed itself finally in the Peasants' Revolt
of 1381.

Four writers are typical of the four chief classes of people : —

1. " Sir John Mandeville," who accepted things as they
were.

2. William Langland, who in jPiers Plowman showed his
wish to bring about reforms.

i4thCent.] CHAUCER'S CENTURY 51

3. John Wyclif, who wished to overthrow rather than to
reform. He and his assistants translated the Bible into
English. Its clear, strong phrasing became a part of the
every-day speech, and did much to fix the language by show-
ing its powers.

4. Geoilrey Chaucer, who good-naturedly ridiculed the faults
of his times. Chaucer's great work is the Canterbury Tales,
which was probably suggested by Boccaccio's Decameron.
Chaucer abandoned the early Anglo-Saxon metre and wrote
in rhymed heroic verse. His work was so excellent that it
fixed the Midland dialect as the literary language of England.

CHAPTER IV

OENTUHY XV

THE PEOPLE'S CENTURY

31. The imitators of Chaucer. Chaucer's poetry was
so much better than any that had preceded it that the
poets who lived in the early part of the fifteenth cen-
tury made many attempts at imitation. They were not
very successful. Chaucer wrote, for instance : —

The bisy larke, messager of day,
Salueth in hirsong the morwe gray;
And fiery Phcebus riseth up so brighte
That al the orient laugheth of the lighte.
And with his stremes dryeth in the greves
The silver droppes hangyng on the leves.

One of Chaucer's imitators wrote : —

Ther he lay to the larke song
With notes newe, hegh up in the ayr.
The glade morowe, rody and right fayr,
Phebus also casting up his bemes,
The heghe hylles gilt with his stremes,
The syluer dewe upon the herbes rounde,
Ther Tydeus lay upon the grounde.

The best of these imitators was a king, James I
James I of Scotland, who was captured by the Eng-
1395°*'""*' ^'sh when he was a boy of eleven, and was
1437. kept a prisoner in England for nineteen

years. During his captivity he fell in love with the
king's niece, and to her he wrote the tender verses of

1400-1425] THE PEOPLE'S CENTURY S3

The Kings Quair.^ He describes his loneliness as fol-
lows : —

Bewailing in my chamber thus allone,

Despeired of all joye and remedye,

For-tiret of my thought and wo-begone,

And to the wyndow gan I walk in hye,
To see the warld and folk that went forbye,
As for the tyme though I of mirthis fude
Mycht have no more, to luke it did me gude.

He catches sight of the princess walking in the garden,

The fairest or the freschest younge floure
That ever I sawe, methought, before that houre.

He gazes at her; then.

And in my hede I drew rycht hastily,

And eft sones I lent it out ageyne,
And saw hir walk that verray womanly,

With no wight mo, bot only women tueyne,
Than gan I studye in myself and seyne,
. Ah ! suete, are ye a warldly creature,

Or hevinly thing in likeness of nature ?

So it is that the captive king wrote his love, with a
frank, admiring imitation of Chaucer, but so simply and
so naturally that he is more than a name on a printed
page; and it is really a pleasure to know that the course
of his love ran smooth, and that he was finally allowed
to return to his kingdom with the wife whom he had
chosen. This seven-line stanza was not original with
him by any means, but because a king had used it, it
became known as "rhyme royal."

32. Sir Thomas Malory. This century began and
ended with royalty, for in its early years King James
wrote its best poetry, and toward its end Sir Thomas
Malory — of whom little is known — wrote its best prose,

' Book.

54 ENGLAND'S LITERATURE [1470-1485

the Morte d' Arthur, the old stories of King Arthur
Morte grown more full, more simple, and more beauti-

a'Arthui, ful than ever. "Thys noble and Joyous book,"
about 1470. (3^xton called it when he put it into print. At
the close of Arthur's life he bids, according to Malory,
" Syr Bedwere " to throw the sword Excalibur into the
lake. Syr Bedwere obeys. Then says the author : —

He threwe the swerde as farre in to the water as he myght,
& there cam an arrae and an hande aboue the water and matte
it, & caught it and so shake it thryse and braundysshed, and then
vanysshed awaye the hande wyth the swerde in the water. . . .
Than syr Bedwere toke the Kyng vpon his backe and so wente wyth
hym to that water syde, & whan they were at the water syde euen
fast by the banke houed a lytyl barge wyth many fayr ladyes in hit,
& emange hem al was a quene, and al they had blacke hoodes,
and al they wepte and shryked whan they sawe Kyng Arthur.
" Now put me in to the barge," sayd the kyng, and so he dyd
softelye.

33. The age of arrest. The fifteenth century is
sometimes called the " age of arrest " because it is not
No great niarked by any great literary work like that of
uterature Chaucer. There are good reasons why no such
work should have been produced. F"irst, the
greater part of the century was full of warfare. The
Hundred Years' War did not close until 1453, and there
was hardly time to sharpen the battle-axes and put new
strings to the bows before another war far more fierce
than the first broke out, and did not come to an end
until 1485. This was the War of the Roses, which was
fought between the supporters of rival claimants to the
English throne. Sometimes one side had the advan-
tage and sometimes the other ; and whichever party was
in power put to death the prominent men of the oppos-
ing party. Second, there was not only no rest or quiet
in the kingdom for great literary productions, but at

iSth Cent.] THE PEOPLE'S CENTURY 55

least half of the nobles, the people of leisure, were killed
in the terrible slaughter. Third, the church, which paid
no taxes, owned so much of the land that the whole
burden of taxation had to be borne by only a part of the
people.

Poor in literature as this century of fighting was,
there were two reasons why it was good for the " com-
mon folk." In the first place, knighthood was (jjij,oftiiB
becoming of less and less value, partly because common
of the increasing use of gunpowder, but even ''*'*°'
more because the English' had at last learned that a
man encased in armor so heavy that he could hardly
mount his horse without help was not so valuable a sol-
dier as a man on foot with a bow or a battle-axe. In
the second place, war could not be carried on without
money, and money must come by vote of the House of
Commons, which represented, however poorly and un-
fairly, the masses of the people. If the king and his
counsellors wished to obtain money, they were obliged
to pay more attention than ever before to the desires of
the people.

34. Ballads. It was from the common folk that the
most interesting literature of the century came, the
ballads. An age of turmoil and unrest was, as has been
said, no time for elaborate literary work, but the flashes
of excitement, the news of a battle lost or a battle won,
the story of some brave fighter returning from the war,
— all these inspired short, strong ballads. Of course
there had been many ballads before then, especially those
of Robin Hood, but the fifteenth was the special century
of the ballad, the time when the strong undercurrent of
this poetry of the people came most conspicuously to
the surface. No one knows who composed these ballads,
but the wording shows that many of them came from

S6 ENGLAND'S LITERATURE [isth Cent.

Scotland, and were inspired by the wild forays that
were continually taking place between the Scotch and
Chevy the English who dwelt near the border line of
ciaso. the two countries. The most famous of all
the border ballads is that of Chevy Chase, which be-
gins : —

The Persd out of Northomberlonde,

and a vowe to God mayd he
That he wold hunte in the mountayns

off Chyviat within days thre

In the magger of doughty Dogles,

and all that ever with him be.

The marks A ballad is not merely a story told in rhyme ;
of a ballad, j^ ha.s several distinctive marks : —

1. It plunges into the tale without a moment's delay.
There is not a shade of Chaucer's leisurely description.
Chevy Chase does not even stop to explain who the two
heroes, Percy and Douglas, may be.

2. It does something and says something. Every
word counts in the story. We know from their deeds
and words what the ballad people think, but " He longed
strange countries for to see," or he "fell in love with
Barbara Allen," is about as near a description of their
thoughts as the ballad ever gives.

3. It is very definite. If people are bad, they are
very bad ; and if they are good, they are very good.
"Alison Gross" is "the ugliest witch in the north
countrie." The bonny maiden is the fairest flower of
all England. Colors are bright and strong : —

O bonnie, bonnie was her mouth

And cherry were her cheeks ;
And clear, clear was her yellow hair,

Whereon the red blude dreeps.

Comparisons are of the simplest ; the maiden has a milk-

I5th Cent] THE PEOPLE'S CENTURY 5/

white hand, her cheeks are red as a rose, and her eyes
are blue as the sky.

4. The metre is almost always 4, 3, 4, 3 ; that is, the
first and third lines contain four accented syllables, the
second, and fourth contain three. The second and fourth
lines rhyme, sometimes the first and third also. The
final syllable often receives an accent even when there
would be none in prose.

5. Most of the ballads show the touch of the Celt.
There are weird stories of the return of ghostly lovers ;
there are fascinating little gleams of fairyland, of beauty
and of happiness, but often with a shade of sadness or
loneliness, the unmistakable mark of the Celtic nature,
that could turn from smiles to tears in the flashing of a
moment.

O sweetly sang the blackbird

That sat upon the tree ;
But sairer grat Lamkin

When he was condemned to die.

We do not know who composed the older ballads.
Indeed, each one seems to have grown up almost like a
little epic. The gleeman wandered from vil-
lage to village, singing to groups of listeners, of the
whose rapt eagerness was his inspiration. He * * ^•
sang his song again and again, each time adding to it or
taking from it, according to whether his invention or his
memory was the better. Moreover, there was no pri-
vate owrlership in ballad land. Any ballad was welcome
to a line or a stanza from any other. Little by little
the song grew, until finally its form was fixed by the
coming of the printing-press.

35. Mystery plays. The fifteenth century was the
time when the mystery or miracle play was at its best.
This kind of play originated in the attempts of the clergy

58

ENGLAND'S LITERATURE [15th Cent.

to teach the people, and was common on the Continent
long before the coming of the Normans to England.
There were few books and few who could read. There-
fore the clergy conceived the idea of acting in the church
short plays presenting scenes from the Bible. To give
room for more people to hear, the play was soon per-
formed on a scaffold in the churchyard. Gradually the
acting was given up by the priests and fell into the
hands of the parish clerks ; then into those of the guilds.

A MYSTERY PLAY AT COVENTRY

From an old print

or companies of tradesmen, for long before the fifteenth
century the men of each craft had formed themselves
into a guild. Slowly the plays became cycles,
each cycle following the Bible story from Gen-
esis to the end of the Gospels, sometimes to the resur-

Cydes.

I5th Cent.] THE PEOPLE'S CENTURY 59

rection. Each guild had in charge the presentation of
one story or more. The acting was no longer in the
churchyards, but at different convenient stations in the
town. The stage was a great two-story or three-story
wagon called, a pageant. An important part of the
scenery was "hell mouth," represented by a pair of
widely gaping jaws full of smoke and flames, into which
unrepentant sinners were summarily hurled and from
which Satan issued to take his part in the drama. The
plays were always acted in the biblical order. When
one play was ended, the pageant moved on, leaving the
place free for the next play, so that a person remaining
at any one station could see the whole cycle.

To modern ideas there are some things in these plays
that seem irreverent ; for instance, the repre- seemingu-
sentation of God the Father on the stage. In "'«"""•
one of the plays of the creation he is made to say famil-
iarly : —

Adam and Eve, this is the place

That I have graunte you of my grace
To have your wonnyng ' in ;

Erbes, spyce, frute on tree,

Beastes, fewles,^ all that ye see,

Shall bowe to you, more and myn.^

This place hight paradyce,

Here shall your joys begynne,

And yf that ye be wyse,

From thys tharr'' ye never twynne.*

Again, when the angels appear to the shepherds to
sing of peace on earth, one of the shepherds says, " I
can sing it as well as he, if you will help ; " and he tries
to imitate the heavenly song.

' dwelling.

^ fowls,

3 great and small.

■> need.

= depart.

6o ENGLAND'S LITERATURE [15th Cent.

The makers of the mystery plays knew as well as the
writers of homilies that if the attention of the people
Comical was to be retained, there must be amusement
scenes. ^g .^^g]j ^g instruction, and therefore they did
not hesitate to introduce comical scenes. The antics of
Satan were made to provide a vast amount of amusement ;
and even more respectable scriptural characters were
impressed into the service of making fun to gratify the
demands of the spectators. After Noah has built his
ark, he requests his wife to come into it, but she objects.
Noah ought not to have worked on that ark one hundred
years before telling her what he was doing, she says ; at
any rate, she must go home to pack her belongings ; she
does not believe it will rain long, and if it does, she will
not be saved without her cousins and her friends. She
is finally persuaded to enter the ark. At last the door is
closed, and Noah might well offer up a prayer of grati-
tude or sing a hymn of praise for the safety of himself
and his family ; but, instead, he proceeds to give most
prosaic directions to his sons to take good care of the
cattle, and to his daughters-in-law to be sure to feed the
fowls.

With all their crudeness^ these plays are often gentle
■ and sympathetic. Joseph watches over Mary most lov-
Teniierness ingly. " My daughter," he tenderly calls her.
oithepiays. ^^ the cruciiixion John's words of comfort
to the sorrowing mother are very touching. " My
heart is gladder than gladness itself," says Mary Mag-
dalene at the resurrection. Such were the plays that
pleased the people ; for they were simple, childlike, warm-
hearted, ready to be amused, satisfied with the rudest
jesting, and accustomed to treat sacred things with famil-
iarity, but with no conscious irreverence. Going to a
mystery play, like going on a pilgrimage, was a religious

I5th Cent.] THE PEOPLE'S CENTURY

6i

A SCENE FROM EVERYMAN

This is a photograph of the reproduction of the play given by the Ben Greet Company in
1903. It represents Everyman on his pilgrimage, followed by Beauty, Strength, Dis-
cretion, and Five Wits. Good Deeds and Knowledge are in the background

duty ; but the mediaeval mind saw no reason why duty
and amusement should not be agreeably united.

36. Miracle plays and moralities. In England these
plays were more frequently called miracle plays, though
this name was applied elsewhere only to dramas based
not upon biblical scenes, but upon legends of saints or
martyrs. Often one kind of play blended with another;
for instance, Mary Magdalene introduces scenes from
the life of Christ:, like a mystery; it follows out the le-
gends of the heroine, like a miracle ; it also leads to a
third variety of play, the morality, in that it introduces
abstract characters, such as Sloth, Gluttony, Wrath, and
Envy, for in the morality the characters were the virtues
and vices. What amusement was in them was made by
the Devil and a new character, the Vice, who played

62 ENGLAND'S LITERATURE [15th Cent.

tricks on Satan in much the fashion of the clown or fool
of later days. At first sight, the morality seems dreary
reading, especially when compared with the liveliness
and rapid action of the mystery. There is no dreari-
ness, however, to one who reads between the lines and is
mindful of how intensely real the story was to those
who listened to it in the earlier ages. One of
' the best of the moralities is Everyman, which
was taken from the Dutch. In this play. Death, God's
messenger, is sent to bid the merry young Everyman to
make the long journey. Everyman pleads for a respite,
he offers a' bribe, he begs that some one may go with
him. "Ye, yf ony be so hardy," Death replies. Then
Everyman in sore distress appeals to Fellowship to
keep him company.

For no man that is lyvynge to daye
I will not go that lothe journaye,

replies Fellowship. Kindred refuse the petition. Good
Deeds would go with him, but Everyman's sins ;have.
so weighed her down that she is too weak to stand. At.
last Knowledge leads him to confession. He does pen-
ance and starts on his lonely pilgrimage. One by one.
Beauty, Strength, Honor, Discretion, and his Five Wits
forsake him. Good Deeds alone stands as his friend, and
says sturdily with renewed strength, " Fere not, I wyll
speke for the." Everyman descends fearfully but trust-
fully into the grave. Knowledge cries, " Nowe hath he
suffred that we all shall endure;" and the play ends with
a solemn prayer, —

And he that hath his accounte hole and sounde,

Hye in heven he shall be crounde,
Unto whiche place God brynge us all thyder
That we may lyve body and soule togyder.

1476]

THE PEOPLE'S CENTURY

63

This is not entertaining, but it is far from being dull.
With the simple stage setting of four centuries ago, the
realistic grave, and the ghastly, ashen gray figure of
Death, it must have thrilled and solemnized the hushed
listeners as neither play nor sermon could do in later
generations.

37. Introduction of printing into England, 1476.
In the last quarter of the century there were two not-
able events that were destined to do more for the
masses of the people than anything that had preceded.

CAXTON PRESENTED TO EDWARD IV

Earl Rivers giving the book to the king, while Caxton kneels beside him

The first of these events was the introduction of print-
ing into England. Through these centuries of the
beginning

of literature, plays, homilies, poems, and

64 ENGLAND'S LITERATURE [1476

lengthy books of prose had all been copied by the pen
on parchment or vellum. Cheap picture books were
printed on a coarse, heavy paper from wooden blocks,
and some of these "block books" contained text also;
but to print with movable types was a German invention
of the middle of the century. Fortunately for English
wuuam book lovers, an Englishman named William
i«2°?- Caxton, who was then living in Germany, was
1491. interested in the wonderful new art, and paid

well for lessons in typesetting and all the other details
of t'he trade. He was not only a keen business man,
who thought money could be made by printing, but he
was also a man of literary taste and ability, and the first
Tie first English book that he printed was a translation
printoa of his own, called The Recuyell of the Historyes
look, prob- of Troye. He wrote triumphantly to a friend
ably 1474. (-jjat his book was "not written with pen and
ink as other books be." This was in 1474. Two years
later, he and his press came to England, and there he
printed volume after volume. The Canterbury Tales,
Malory's Morte d' Arthur, .^sop's Fables, and nearly one
hundred other volumes came from his press.

In the simple, primitive fashion of the fifteenth cen-
tury,* which ascribed to Satanic agency whatever was
new or mysterious, there were many people in England
who looked upon Caxton's magical output of books as
Decrease unquestionably the work of the devil ; but the
price oi press was still kept busy, and the price of
books. books became rapidly less. Before Caxton
began to print, they were enormously expensive. A
hbrary of twenty or thirty volumes was looked upon as
a rare collection ; and it was no wonder, for the usual
rate for copying was a sum equal to-day to nearly fifty
cents a page. Caxton's most expensive book could be

iSth Cent] THE PEOPLE'S CENTURY

65

purchased for about ^^30. How amazed he would have
been if he could have looked forward to 1885 and seen
one of his earlier and less perfect volumes sold for
nearly ^10,000!

38. Signs of progress. England was not so wildly
enthusiastic over literature that every tradesman or
even every noble who
could command a few
pounds hastened to
purchase a book; but
the mere fact that
there were „„ . ,

Effect of
books for sale printing on

at a price ="^'^*-
lower than had been
dreamed of before was
a hope and an inspira-
tion. It was easier to
see books, to borrow
them, to know about
them ; and little by
little the knowledge
filtered down through
the various classes of
people, until that one printing-press at Westminster had
given new thoughts and new hopes to thousands.

New thoughts were coming from yet another source.
Columbus had discovered what was supposed to be
a shorter way to India ; Vasco da Gama had poieign
rounded Africa ; hundreds had gazed with wide- ^'sMTeiiea.
open eyes upon the ship of the Cabots as it sailed from
the English wharfs, and had followed the " Grand Ad-
miral" as he walked about the streets on his return,
with all the glory of his discoveries about him. No one

EARLIEST KNOWN REPRESENTATION OF
PRINTING-PRESS

66 ENGLAND'S LITERATURE [isth Cent.

yet suspected that he had landed on the shores of a con-
tinent, but it was enough to hear the sailors' stories of
strange plants and animals and people. Who could say
what other marvels might be discovered }

Then came the end of the century. The homes of
the masses of the people had made small addition of

comfort ; the noble treated the peasants who
The people ' ^

andtiie Still lived On his land with perhaps small in-
century. crease of respect ; but for all that, the fifteenth
century was marked by the increasing importance of the
common people. They had shown their prowess in
fighting ; they held more firmly the money-bags of the
kingdom ; the ballads were theirs ; the mystery plays
were theirs ; the new art of printing would benefit them
rather than the wealthy nobles ; the discovery of Amer-
ica would be to their gain, and it was already a stimulus
to their intellect and their imagination. The sixteenth
century was at hand, and men had a right to expect from
it such a display of universal intellectual ability as Eng-
land had never known.

Century XV

THE PEOPLE'S CENTURY

James L of Scotland. Mystery plays.

Sir Thomas Malory. Moralities.

Ballads.

SUMMARY

The poets of the early part of the century tried to imitate
Chaucer. Of these imitators, King James I of Scotland was
the best. Toward the end of the century, Sir Thomas Malory
wrote the best prose, the Morte (T Arthur.

Only a small amount of good literature was produced be-
cause : —

I. The Hundred Years' War and the Wars of the Roses
filled the age with fighting.

iSth Cent] THE PEOPLE'S CENTURY ^J

2. A large number of the nobles were slain.

3. The people were heavily taxed.

The common people gained in power because, first, the use
of gunpowder made knighthood of decreasing value ; and, sec-
ondly, the money needed for this warfare could be obtained
only by vote of the House of Commons.

From the common folk came the most interesting literature
of the time, the ballads. They have no introduction ; they
are definite ; their metre is usually 4, 3, 4, 3 ; they generally
show a Celtic touch. A ballad is often the work of many
hands.

The miracle plays were at their best. They were acted
first by the clergy ; then by members of guilds. They were
followed by the moralities, of which Everyman is the best
example.

Toward the end of the century, there were two notable
events which aroused and stimulated the people. They
were : —

1. The introduction of printing into England by William
Caxton, followed by a decrease in the price of books and a
much more general circulation of them.

2. Foreign discoveries by Columbus, Da Gama, the Cabots,
and others.

The distinguishing mark of the age was the increasing im-
portance of the common people.

CHAPTER V

CENTURY XVI

SHAKESPEARE'S CENTURY

39. Revival of learning in Europe. For three hun-
dred years after the Norman Conquest, English writers
were inclined to follow French models. Then came
Chaucer, who, thoroughly English as he was, retold
Italian stories, and was for some years greatly influenced
The liter- ^^ Italian literature. Italy was looked upon as
aryposiuon the land of knowledge and light, and it was
° '■ the custom for Englishmen who wished for
better educational advantages than Oxford or Cam-
bridge could afford, to go to that country to study in
some one of the great universities.

Italian scholars were deeply interested in the writings
of the Greeks and Romans. For many years they had
The Re- been collecting ancient manuscripts, and in
naissanoe. 1453 an event occurred which brought more of
them to Italy than ever before. This event was the
capture of Constantinople by the Turks. Constantino-
ple had been the home of many Greek scholars, who
now fled to Italy and brought the priceless manuscripts
with them. Then there was study of the classics in-
deed. More and more students went from other coun-
tries to Italy. ■ More and more copies of those manu-
scripts were carried to different parts of Europe. Among
the ancient writings was clear, concise prose, so care-
fully finished that every word seemed to be in its own

i6th Cent.] SHAKESPEARE'S CENTURY 69

proper niche ; there were beautiful epics and much
other poetry ; there were essays, histories, biographies,
and orations. Printing had come at just the right time
to spread this new ancient knowledge over the Conti-
nent and England. All western Europe was aroused.
People felt a new sense of boldness and freedom. They
felt as if in the years gone by they had been slow and
stupid. Now they became daring and fearless in their
thought. They were eager to learn, to do, to under-
stand. This movement was so marked that a name was
given to it, the Renaissance, or new birth, for people
felt as if a new life had come to them. The Renais-
sance did not affect all countries alike. In Italy, the
minds of men turned toward sculpture and painting ; in
Germany, to a bold investigation of religious teachings ;
in England, toward religion and literature.

A second influence that helped to arouse and inspire
was the increased knowledge of the western increased

world. Columbus died in 1506, but now that unowieage

ol tlie
the way had been pointed out, one explorer western

after another crossed the western seas. South '"'"*i"6"''

America was rounded and found to be a vast continent.

North America was a group of islands, people thought ;

and men set out boldly to find a channel through them,

to discover a "Northwest Passage." Finally, Magellan's

ship went around the world ; and, behold, the world

was much larger than had been supposed. Before the

wonder of this had faded from the minds of men, there

came another amazing discovery, for Coperni- ^y^^i^^^j^.

cus declared, " The earth is not the centre of inga oi

the universe ; it is only a satellite of the sun." °"°

This was not accepted at once as truth, but the mere

suggestion of it broadened men's thoughts. There was

good reason why the world should begin to awake.

70 ENGLAND'S LITERATURE [1509-1529

40. Henry VIII and the men about him. The in-
fluence of the Renaissance was not strongly felt in
England before the time of Henry VIII, who came to
the throne in 1 509. Around him centred the literature
of the early part of the century. Indeed, he himself
attempted verse more than once. Pastime with Good
Company is ascribed to him.

Pastime with good company
I love, and shall until I die,
Gruche so will," but none deny,
So God be pleased, so live will L

For my pastance,^

Hunt, sing, and dance.

My heart is sett ;
All goodly sport
To my comfort,

Who shall me let ? ^

Henry VIII was no great poet, but he liked litera-
joim skei- ture, and he liked to appear as its patron. His
ton, asout early tutor was one of the most prominent

1460-1529. . ■' ^

liteiary men of the day, the poet John Skelton.
Skelton says : —

The honor of Englond I lernyd to spelle
In dygnite roialle that doth excelle.

Skelton was a fine classical scholar, and was perfectly
able to write smooth, easily flowing verses, but he de-
liberately chose a rough, tumbling, headlong metre.
He hated Cardinal Wolsey, and of him he wrote : —

So he dothe vndermynde.

And suche sleyghtes dothe fynde,

That the Kynges mynde

By hym is subuerted.

And so streatly coarted

' grudge whoso will. ^ pastime. ' hinder.

1480-1535] SHAKESPEARE'S CENTURY Jl

In credensynge his tales,
That all is but nutshales
That any other sayth :
He hath in him suche fayth.

Little wonder is it that Wolsey cordially returned the
poet's dislike.

This harsh, scrambling metre Skelton knew how to
adapt to more poetical thoughts. His best known poem
is on " Phyllyp Sparowe," the pet bird of a young school-
girl. It is of the mistress that he writes : —

Soft and make no din,
For now I will begin
To have in remembrance
Her goodly dalliance
And her goodly pastaunce
So sad and so demure.
Behaving her so sure,
With words of pleasure
She would make to the lure
And any man convert
To give her his whole heart.

Skelton was a witty man, and many of the "good
stories " of his day were ascribed to him. It innuenos
is easy to see how Henry VIII would be in- "' sueiton.
fluenced even as a child by the careless boldness, poeti-
cal ability, and rollicking good nature of this man who
was as brilliant as he was learned. No one knows how
much of Henry's interest in poetry was due to the
guidance of his tutor. Elizabeth closely resembled her
father, and must have been influenced by his love of lit-
erature. It may be that we owe some generous part of
the literary glory of the Elizabethan age to the half-for-
gotten John Skelton with his "jagged" rhymes.

41. Sir Thomas More, 1480-1535. Another friend
of Henry VIII was Sir Thonjas More, Sir Thomas

72

ENGLAND'S LITERATURE [1480-1535

was so learned that when he was hardly more than a boy
he could step upon the stage in the midst of a Latin play
and make up a part for himself ; and he was so witty
that his improvised jests would set the audience into
peals of laughter. The year that Henry came to the
throne More wrote the lives of Edward V and of Rich-
ard III, and this was the first English historical work
that was well arranged and written in a dignified style.
The little book by which he is best known was writ-
ntopia ^^^ ^^ Latin and had a Greek title, Utopia, or
1516. "nowhere." This describes a country as More

thought a country ought to be. In that marvellous land
everything was valued according to its real worth. Gold

was less useful than
iron ; therefore the
chains of criminals
were made of gold.
Kings ruled, not for
their own glory, but
for the sake of their
people. No one was
idle, and no one was
overworked. War
was undertaken only
for self-defence, or
to aid other nations
against invasion.
This book is interest-
ing not only because
it pictures what so
brilliant a man as
Sir Thomas More
thought a country should be, but because it proves that
people were thinking with a boldness and freedom that

SIR THOMAS MORE, 14SC1-1535
From Holbein's Court of Henry VIII

I52S] SHAKESPEARE'S CENTURY 73

would not be suppressed. In many respects More proved
to be a true prophet, for some of the laws that he sug-
gested became long ago a part of the British constitu-
tion.

42. Religious questioning. In Utopia every man
was allowed to follow whatever religion he thought
right. This question of religion, whether to obey the
church implicitly or to decide matters of faith for one's
self, was dividing Germany into two parties, and was
arousing a vast amount of thought and discussion in
England. Many held firmly to the old faith ; but many
others were inclined to investigate the teachings of the
church, and to wish to compare them with the words of
the Bible. English had changed greatly since Wyclif's
day, and an English scholar named William wiiiiam
Tyndale was determined that the Bible should 1^5^'!'
be given to the people in the language of their isae.
own time. " If God spare my life," he said to a cler-
gyman who opposed him, "ere many years I will cause
a boy that driveth the plough shall kpow more of the
Scripture than thou dost." There was "no room" in
England to make his translation, as he said, and there-
fore Tyndale went to Germany, and in 1525 TTiaaie's
printed with the utmost secrecy an English translation
version of the New Testament. Some English Testament,
merchants paid for the printing, and the books ^^^b.
found their way over the country in spite of the king's
opposition. The Old Testament was afterward trans-
lated under his direction and partly by himself.
, Not more than two years after Tyndale's New Testa-
ment was printed, Henry became bent upon securing
a divorce from his wife, but the pope refused. Then
Henry declared that he himself was the head of the
church in England. Parliament was submissive, the

74 ENGLAND'S LITERATURE [1534

English clergy were submissive, and in 1534 the Church
of England separated from the Church of Rome. Who-
sepaiation ever believed that the authority of the pope
of England ^^^ Superior to that of the king was declared
iiom a traitor. Prominent men were not suffered

of Rome. to hold their own opinions in quiet; and among
1534. those who were dragged forward and com-

pelled to say under oath whether they accepted Henry
as the head of their church was Sir Thomas More. He
was too honorable and truthful to assent to what he
did not believe ; and King Henry, who had
Sir Thomas claimed to feel great admiration and affection
"""■ for him, straightway gave the order that he

should be executed. Tyndale, too, Henry had pursued
even after his withdrawal to the Continent. Such was
the treatment that this patron of literature bestowed
upon two of the three or four best writers of English
prose that lived during his reign.

43. Sir Thomas "Wyatt, 1503-1542, and Henry
Howard, Earl of Surrey, about 1517-1547. At
King Henry's court there were two men in whom every
one who met them was interested. The elder was Sir
Thomas Wyatt. He was a learned man, he spoke sev-
eral languages, he wa« a skilful diplomatist and states-
man. He was also a man of most charming manners,
and was exceedingly handsome. The younger was the
Earl of Surrey. These two men were warm friends, and
they were both interested in poetry. Both knew well
the Greek and Latin and Italian literatures ; and they
appreciated not only the freedom of thought and fancy
brought in by the Renaissance, but also the carefulness
with which the Italian poetry as well as the classical
was written. Why should not that same carefulness,
that same love for not only saying a good thing but

'5S3-I557] SHAKESPEARE'S CENTURY 75

saying it in the best way, be followed in English, they

questioned. They were especially pleased with the Italian

sonnet, a form of verse that needs the great-

, r , . ., The sonnet,

est care and accuracy of arrangement m its

rhymes, the number of lines and of accents, the ending
of the octave, the first eight lines, its connection with
the sestet, the last six, and the summing up of the
thought at the end." They brought to England, not the
glow and brilliancy of the Renaissance, but the realiza-
tion that literary composition had definite requirements,
that the thought was not enough, but that the form in
which the thought was presented was also of importance.

Surrey introduced another form of verse to the Eng-
lish, blank verse, or, as the Italians called it, suney's
"free verse." It was in this style that he trans- pabuaiiea
lated two books of the ^neid, smoothly and i553.
easily, and with a sincere appreciation not only of the
classical beauty of form, but of the beauty of thought
and description.

These two men could not be long among Henry's
courtiers without feeling both his favor and his disfavor.
Wyatt was imprisoned on some trivial charge more than
once, and Surrey was beheaded on a groundless accusa-
tion of treason. For years their writings were passed
from one to another in manuscript, for it would have
been thought great lack of taste and delicacy to allow
one's poems to be printed ; and not until ten years after
Surrey's death did they come out in print. The book in
which they appeared is known as Tottel's Mis- j^jtei's
cellany, a collection of short poems which was Miscellany,
published in 1557. This book is interesting, ''
but it is rarely pleasant reading. It has not a touch of

' For a sonnet of Sir Philip Sidney's, see page 94. For one of
Milton's, see page 142.

76

ENGLAND'S LITERATURE [i6th Cent.

humor. The poets wrote of the wretchedness and mu-
tability of the world. The love -poems were especially
doleful. The lover complains — "complains" is the
favorite word — of his lady's absence ; he laments " how
unpossible it is to find quiet " in his love. Yet even on
so lugubrious a subject as " The lover complains of the
unkindness of his love," Wyatt is beautiful and grace-
ful. He writes : —

My lute, awake ! perform the last
Labour that thou and I shall waste ;
And end that I have now begun :
And when this song is sung and past,
My lute, be .still, for I have done.

44. Masques and Interludes. While Skelton was
preparing the way for satire,
while Tyndale and Sir Thomas
More were writing excellent
prose, while Wyatt and Surrey
were teaching English poets
not only how to write sonnets
and blank verse, but also that
the form of a poem should be
as carefully watched as the
outline and coloring of a pic-
ture, the drama was not for-
gotten. Mysteries and moral-
ities still flourished, but these
were not sufficiently entertain-
ing for Henry VHI and his
merry court. Two kinds of

favor, the masques and
the interludes. Masques were at first only dumb shows,
or pantomimes. In one of them a mock castle was seen,

A MASQUER

i6th Cent.] SHAKESPEARE'S CENTURY ^^

from whose windows six ladies in gorgeous raiment

looked forth. The king and five knights in even more

brilliant attire appeared and besieged the castle. When

the ladies could no longer resist, they came down, flung

open the gates, and joined their besiegers in a merry

dance. At the close of the dance, each maiden led her

knight into the castle, which was then drawn swiftly out

of sight. There is little to tell about a masque ; but

with the opportunity to display gracefulness and beauty

, and magnificence and skill in the use of arms, there

must have been enough to see to amuse even the merry

young king.

The second kind of entertainment that was enjoyed

by king and nobles was the interludes which were acted

between the courses of feasts or at festivals.

Interludes.
They are a little like real plays because they

are in dialogue, and they are a little like moralities
because they sometimes introduce the Vice and other
abstract characters. Here the resemblance to the mo-
rality ends, for they are often full of wild merriment
and jest. The one best known is The Foure P's : a very
Mery Enterlude of a Palmer, a Pardoner, a Potecary,
and a Pedlar. Each one tells such big stories of what
he has seen and done that finally the pedlar declares that
they are all liars, and that he will give the palm to the
one who can tell the biggest lie. Probably the audience
listened with roars of laughter as one attempt followed
another. The dialogue was rough and sometimes coarse,
but it was easy and natural, and it was preparing the
way for the graceful wit and the flowing speech of the
Elizabethan stage. John Heywood was the , ^^ _
author of The Foure P's. Sir Thomas More wood, died
had introduced him to the king, and he re- ^^^^'
mained in the royal favor long after More had been put

78 ENGLAND'S LITERATURE [1547

to death, rising from some humble position in which he
served his sovereign for eight pence a day to that of
special provider of amusements for the court.

45. The first English comedy, Ralph Roister Dois-
ter, • probably 1552 or 1553. Henry VIII died in
1547, and during the six years that the boy Edward VI
was on the throne, the first English comedy made its
appearance. English scholars were still deeply inter-
ested in the classics, and the comedies of Plautus had
been played at court many years before. This first Eng-
lish comedy was written by an English schoolmaster
NiohoUs ^""^ clergyman named Nicholas Udall. He was
udaii, died the author of some dignified translations from
^^^®' the Latin, and his play, Ralph Roister Doister,

is modelled on the plays of Plautus. The hero, RalpTi
himself, is a conceited simpleton, upon whom Merrygreek,
a hanger-on, plays tricks without number. Ralph is
bent upon marrying "a widow worth a thousand pound,"
and here Merrygreek plays his worst prank. A scriv-
ener has written a love-letter for Ralph, part of which
reads : —

Yf ye will be my wife,
Ye shall be assured for the time of my life,
I wyll keep you right well : from good raiment and fare
Ye shall not be kept : but in sorrowe and care
Ye shall in no wyse Hue : at your owne libertie,
Doe and say what ye lust : ye shall neuer please me
But when ye are merrie : I will bee all sadde
When ye are sorie : I wyll be very gladde
When ye seek your heartes ease : I will be vnkinde
At no time. In me shall ye muche gentlenesse finde.

Merrygreek reads this letter to the widow, and changes
the punctuation so as to give it exactly the opposite
meaning and arouse the wrath of Dame Custance. It
hardly seems possible that instead of such labored jest-

1562] SHAKESPEARE'S CENTURY 79

ing as this we shall have in less than fifty years the
light, witty merriment of Shakespeare's Portia ; but the
days of Queen Elizabeth were at hand, and in that mar-
vellous time all things came to pass.

46. The first English tragedy, Gorboduo, 1562. In
1558, Queen Elizabeth came to the throne. There was
much rejoicing on the part of the nation, and yet not
all was happiness and harmony in England. The coun-
try was poor ; it had few if any friends ; Catholics and
Protestants quarrelled bitterly ; supporters of Elizabeth
and supporters of Mary Stuart were sometimes almost
at swords' points. It was fitting that the first signifi-
cant literary work of Elizabeth's reign should owe its
origin to a realization of the condition of af- Thomas
fairs. This work was a drama, the first Eng- fggg'"^"'
lish tragedy. Its authors were Thomas Sack- leos.
ville and Thomas Norton, two young men of the Inner
Temple. In 1561, the members of the Inner Temple
were to have a grand Christmas celebration Thomas
twelve days long, and these two young men de- ?™°'
termined to write a play to show what disasters i584.
might befall a disunited nation. This play was called at
first Gorboduc, later Ferrex and Porrex. It was modelled
upon the work of the Latin author, Seneca, who was
much read in England, but the plot was based upon
an old British legend of a kingdom's discord.

King Gorboduc divides his kingdom between his two
sons, Porrex and Ferrex. Porrex slays his brother.
Their mother kills Porrex. The people rise, and kill
both Gorboduc and the queen, and the story ends with
a long speech on the dangers of such a situation. So
many horrors are piled upon horrors that the play seems
like a burlesque ; but it was no burlesque in the days of
its first appearance. Learned councillors and other great

8o ENGLAND'S LITERATURE [1562

folk of the kingdom listened with the utmost serious-
ness, and the queen sent a command that it should be
repeated at court.

Gorboduc is in several ways quite different from Ralph
Roister Doister. In the first place, it is connected with
DUierenco ^^^ masques in that it has pantomime, for
between there is a "dumb show" before each act, fore-
andRaipii shadowing what is to come; for instance, be-
Roister fQj-g (-hg division of the kingdom between the
two sons, the fable is shown of the bundle of
sticks which could not be broken until they were sep-
arated. Before the murder of Ferrex, a band of mourn-
ers clad in black walk solemnly across the stage -three
times. At the end of each act a " Chorus," that is, a
single actor in a long black robe, appears and moralizes
on the events of the act. Again, Ralph Roister Doister
was written in rhyming couplets, while the new tragedy
was written in the blank verse which Surrey had intro-
duced from Italy. It was not very agreeable blank
verse, however, as it came from the pens of the two
young Templars, for there is a pause at the end of al-
most every line, and the monotony is somewhat tire-
some ; for instance : —

Within one land one single rule is best ;
Divided reigns do make divided hearts :
But peace preserves the country and the prince.

47. Increasing strength of England. One reason
for the popularity of Gorboduc was that Englishmen
were beginning to realize more strongly than ever be-
fore that the country was theirs. The queen loved her
land and her subjects, and the people of England were
quick to feel the new sense of harmony between the
ruler and the ruled. England became rapidly stronger.

i6th Cent.] SHAKESPEARE'S CENTURY 8l

Her sea-captains sailed fearlessly into the Arctic and
Pacific Oceans. More than this, they sailed straight
into Spanish harbors and burned the merchant vessels
lying at anchor ; and they lay in wait for Spanish ships
coming from the New World, captured them, and bore
their vast treasure of gold and silver back to England.
There was no enemy to guard against except Spain, and
even toward Spain England grew more and more fear-
less.

All this audacious freedom was reflected in the liter-
ature of the time, especially in the boldness with which
English writers attempted anything and every- Literary
thing. This boldness was something entirely "oidnoss.
new in religious writings. Every middle-aged man in
England could remember three religious revolutions,
three times within the space of less than a quarter of a
century when men who had not changed their faith to
agree with that of their sovereign had been in danger of
death at the stake. Religious poems had been careful
and timid, but now they became frank and cheerful.
Great numbers of ballads were written, but few of them
were as good as the old ones ; for their chief object now
was to tell of some recent event, that is, to be news-
papers rather than poems, Of translations there seemed
no end, translations not only from the Greek and Latin,
but also from the Italian, for Italy was still the land of
culture and light. The Celtic love for stories could now
be satisfied, for there were tales and romances from
Italy, from the wonder-book of early English history,
and even from the legends of Spain. The stories told
by returhing sea-captains were not to be scorned, throb-
bing with life as they were, glowing with pictures of the
strange new world, and thrilling with wild encounters on
the sea

82 ENGLAND'S LITERATURE [i579

48. The early Elizabethan drama. It was not
enough to hear stories told. In that age of action, peo-
ple must see things done ; and the drama flourished
more and more. Theatres were built, the first in 1576.
The queen was very fond of the drama, and this in itself
was a great encouragement, for Elizabeth was England,
and England was Elizabeth. All kinds of dramas flour-
ished. The mystery plays were not yet given up ; mo-
ralities, comedies, tragedies, and all sorts of mongrel
dramas appeared. The metre employed was in quite as
uncertain a state ; for these bold writers of plays were
ready to try everything. Sometimes they imitated the
blank verse of Gorboduc ; sometimes they followed such
metreless metre as these lines from Ralph Roister
Doister : —

Ye may not speake with a faint heart to Custance,
But with a lusty breast and countenance.

Sometimes lines of seven accents were tried, sometimes
lines of five, sometimes of ten, and sometimes there was
no attempt at metre, but the play was written in prose.
The years rolled on rapidly. The sixties were past,
the seventies were nearly gone. In 1579, the special
Theneea i^^^d of English literature was form. Both
ofiorm. prose and poetry needed the finish and care-
fulness of which Wyatt and Surrey had been the apos-
tles. In 1579 and 1580, three new writers arose, who
laid before the lovers of poetry fresh and winning exam-
ples of what might be accompHshed by poetic thought
united with careful form. These three writers were
John Lyly, Edmund Spenser, and Sir Philip Sidney.

49. John Lyly, 15547-1606. Hardly anything is
known of John Lyly before 1579 save that he was a uni-
versity man and attached to the court. His first book.

1579] SHAKESPEARE'S CENTURY 83

Enphues, that is, "the well endowed by nature," was
long looked upon as a model for polite conversation, and
affected the style of writing of all literary Eng- Eupiines,
land for many years.. It has a slender thread of ^"a.
story whereon are hung various moral and educational
ideas. So far there is nothing unusual in it. Its pecul-
iarity lay in its style. Lyly uses the balanced sentence
to excess, stiffens it with alliteration, and loads it down
with similes, a large proportion of them drawn from a
half-fabulous natural history. One of his sentences is : —

If Trauailers in this our age were ... as willing to reap profit
by their paines as they are to endure perill for their pleasure, they
would either prefer their own soyle before a strange Land or good
counsell before their owne conceyte.

Another sentence declares : —

As the Egle at euery flight looseth a fether, which maketh hir bald
in hir age : so the trauailer in euery country looseth some fleece,
which maketh him a beggar in his youth.

This affected manner of talking and writing fell in
with the whim of the age, and was soon the height of the
fashion. Foolish and unnatural as it seems, it ^jvantagos
brought to English prose precisely what that of eupha-
■ prose needed, that is, a plan for each sentence.
Far too many a writer, not only in King Alfred's time
but long afterward, had plunged into his sentences with
the utmost audacity, trusting to luck to bring him out ;
but whoever wrote in euphuistic fashion was obliged to
plan his sentences and choose his words.

Euphuism was only one of the little affectations of
style that influenced the literature of Elizabethan times.
Throughout the rest of the century and far into the next
one poetic disguise after another was welcomed.

50. Edmund Spenser, 1552-1599. One of the most
popular of these disguises was the pastoral, wherein the

84 ENGLAND'S LITERATURE [i579

characters are spoken of as shepherds and shepherdesses.
They have the sheep and the crook, but in
their thought they are anything but simple

shepherds. The first of these pastorals was written by

Edmund Spenser, and is called The Sliepherd' s Calendar.
Spenser was a London boy, who began to write

herd's cai- poetry in his school-days, but almost nothing
ar. 1579. gjgg jg jj^Q^j^ Qf jjjj^ until he wrote this poem.

Before it was quite completed, he met one of the most
interesting young men of the age, Sir Philip Sidney,
and was invited to his home at Penshurst. From the
first the two young men were very congenial. Tradi-
tion says they spent day after day under the beech-
trees, reading the works of the old Greek philosophers
and talking of poetry. When The Shepherd 's Calendar
was published, it was dedicated to Sidney, —

To him that is the president
Of noblesse and of chevalree.

The Calendar is a collection of poems, one for each
month of the year. They are not at all alike. One, of
course, was in praise of the queen ; but there were fables,
satires, and allegory, besides the five poems that pertain
strictly to country life. For February there is a story
of a "bragging brere," or briar rose, who takes it upon
him to scold a grand old oak for being in his way, and
appeals to the husbandmen to cut it down, for he says
it is

Hindering with his shade my lovely light,
And robbing me of the swete s6nnes sight.

The oak is hewn down ; but when winter is come,
the brere, too, meets his death, for now he has not the
shelter and support of the oak that he scorned. For
August there is a merry little roundelay about the meet-

1579]

SHAKESPEARE'S CENTURY

85

ing of shepherd "Willie" with shepherdess " Perigot."
So it is that Spenser describes his heroine : ^-

Well decked in a frocke of gray,

Hey ho gray is greete,
And in a kirtle of greene say,

The greene is for maidens meete.
A chapelet on her head she wore,

Hey ho chapelet.
Of sweete violets therein was store,

She sweeter than the violet.
My sheep did leave theyr wonted foode.

Hey ho seely sheepe.
And gazed on her, as they were wood,'

Woode as he, that did them keepe.

These poems of Spenser's were so much better than
any others written since Chaucer's day that TiiB"new
all the lovers of poetry were interested, and '"'■"
Spenser was often spoken of as the " new poet." He
was without means, and by in-
fluence of his friends a govern-
ment position was obtained
for him in Ireland. A few
months before he went on
board the vessel that was to
bear him across the Irish Sea,
he wrote to an old school
friend to return a little pack-
age of manuscript which had
been lent him to read, and
" whyche I pray you heartily
send me with al expedition,"
he said. The little package was to return to England
some ten years later, but much was to happen in the
literary world before that came to pass.

' mad.

EDMUND SPENSER
I552-I599

86 , ENGLAND'S LITERATURE [1580

In the first place, pastorals became so much the fash-
ion that there was even a rewriting of old poems, so
The pastoral that "youths and maidens " might appear as
iasMon. "swains and nymphs" or as "shepherds and
shepherdesses." Euphues was not a pastoral, but its
smoothness and careful attention to sound were in full
accord with this mode of writing. Soon after Spenser
had gone to Ireland, his friend. Sir Philip Sidney, wrote
a book that was almost equally smooth. It was written
merely for amusement and to please the Countess of
Pembroke, his favorite sister, but for more than three
hundred years it has pleased almost every one who has
read it.

51. Sir Philip Sidney, 1554-1586. Sir Philip be-
longed to a noble family ; he received every advantage
of education and travel ; he was of so singularly sweet
a nature and so brilliant an intellect that he was loved
and admired by every one who knew him. Yet he was
not at all spoiled, he felt only the more eager to prove
himself worthy of this love and admiration. When only
twenty-three, he was sent to Prague as the ambassador
of his country. He was even thought to be a fit candi-
date for the throne of Poland, but here Queen Elizabeth
.said no. " I will not brook the loss of the jewel of my
dominions," declared this autocratic sovereign.

Sir Philip's book was named Arcadia, or as it was
usually called. The Countess of Pembroke s Arcadia. It
Arcadia, is a kind of pastoral romance, wherein young
written ^en and maidens wander about in a beautiful

1580-81,

pubiisiea forest. They fall in love with one another ;
1590. (.jjgy jjjjj jjQjjg . (.j^gy carry on war with the

Helots of Greece ; they are taken by pirates and have
encounters with bears ; and all this occurs in a fabulous
country, a wilderness of faerie. The very story is a

iS8o]

SHAKESPEARE'S CENTURY

87

wilderness. There is no especial plot, and the charac-
ters are not drawn like real men and women. But why
should they be so drawn ? They are half-enchanted
wanderers roaming on happily through a magical forest.
Page after page Sid-
ney wrote, never
stopping for revi-
sion, rambling on
wherever his fancy
led ; with the loved
sister beside him
slipping away each
leaf, as his pen
traced the bottom
line, to see what
had come next in
the fascinating tale
of faerie. Even the
sound of the words
is charming. The
sentences are often
long, but clear and
graceful and musi-
cal. There is more
than mere pleasant-
ness of sound in the Arcadia, however, for it is full of
charming bits of description, and of true and noble
thoughts. Here is the merry little shepherd boy, "pip-
ing as though he should never grow old." Here is "a
place made happy by her treading." Here, too, "They
laid them down by the murmuring music of certain
waters." It is but a picture of himself when Sidney
writes, " They are never alone that are accompanied with
noble thoughts," and "Keep yourself in heart with joyful-

SIR PHILIP SIDNEY
1554-1586

88 ENGLAND'S LITERATURE [1590

ness." One of his friends said long after the author's
death that Sidney had intended to rewrite his book and
make it into an English romance with King Arthur for
its hero; but it is so graceful and charming in its present
form that no one could wish to have it made over.

The Arcadia was handed about in manuscript from
one friend to another. Wherever it was read, it was
Themis- praised and imitated, but it was not printed
oeiiajiies. till ISQO. Printing was for common folk, not
for nobles and courtiers ; and the lovers of poetry were
in the habit of making manuscript books of their favor-
ite poems. Before the end of the century, however,
some of these books did come to the printing-press. As
if to console them for their humiliation, most high-
sounding titles were given them, and we have The Para-
dise of Dainty Devices, Brittons Bower of Delights, The
Phenixs Nest, England's Helicon, etc.

52. Later Elizabethan drama. It was the time of
the pastoral, but hundreds of sonnets were being written
and passed about in manuscript. Besides this, the drama
was almost ready to burst forth with a magnificence of
which no one could have dreamed who had seen only
the crude attempts of less than half a century earlier.
Scores of plays had been written. They were good
plays, too, wonderfully far in advance of the previous
attempts. Many of them were well worth acting, and
are well worth reading to-day ; even though the writers
had not yet adopted a standard verse, and had not mas-
tered the art of making their characters live, that is, of
making a character show just such changes at the end
of the play as a human being' would show if he had been
through such experiences as those delineated. This
was the greatest lack in these dramas. Their greatest
beauty lay in the little songs scattered through the

1579-1603] SHAKESPEARE'S CENTURY 89

scenes. In the Elizabethan days everybody loved music
and everybody sang. Servants were chosen gongs in
with an ear to their voices, that they might be 'te oramas.
able to join in a glee or a catch. The words of the songs
must be musical ; but the Elizabethans demanded even
more than this. Poetry was plentiful, and the songs
must be real poetry. Therefore it was that such dainty
little things appeared as Apelles' Song : —

Cupid and my Campaspe played

At cards for kisses, — Cupid paid ;

He stakes his quiver, bow and arrows, Sone°^

His mother's doves and team of sparrows :

Loses them too ; then down he throws

The coral of his lip, the rose

Growing on 's cheek (but none knows how);

With these the crystal of his brow,

And then the dimple of his chin :

All these did my Campaspe win.

At last he set her both his eyes ;

She won, and Cupid blind did rise.

O Love, has she done this to thee ?

What shall, alas ! become of me .'

This song is in Lyly's play of Alexander and Cam-
paspe, for the famous euphuist wrote a handful of plays
which were presented before the queen. He uj.j.. ,
wrote in prose, but some makers of plays standard
employed rhyme, some blank verse, and some
a mingling of all three. There was great need of a stand-
ard verse suited to the requirements of the drama, a
line not so short as to suggest doggerel, and not so long
as to be cumbersome and unwieldy. Blank verse was
perhaps slowly gaining ground, but before it could be
generally accepted as the most fitting mode of dramatic
expression, some writer must use it so skilfully as to
show its power, its music, and its adaptability.

90 ENGLAND'S LITERATURE [1587-1592

53. Christopher Marlowe, 1564-1593. Such a writer
was Christopher, or "Kit," Marlowe, one of the "uni-
versity wits," as one group of playwrights was called,
because nearly all of them had been connected with one
or the other of the great universities. He is thought
to have lived in somewhat Bohemian fashion, but little
is certainly known of his life save that he took his
degree at Cambridge. His Tamburlaine was acted in
1587 or 1588. Five years later, Marlowe died; but in
those five years he wrote at least three plays, the Jew
of Malta, the Tragical History of Doctor Faustus, and
Edward II, which showed what magnificent use could
be made of blank verse.

In his prologue to Tamburlaine he promises to lead
his audience " from jigging veins of rhyming mother
Tamimr- wits," and he keeps his promise nobly. The
1587 or° ° Scythian hero, Tamburlaine, is a shepherd who
1688. becomes the conqueror of sovereigns. One

scene was the laughing-stock of the time, that in which
Tamburlaine enters, drawn in his chariot by two captive
kings with bits in their mouths. Marlowe had no sense
of humor to keep him from such an absurdity ; his mis-
Triumpii 01 ^^""^ ^^^ '•° Si^^ ^^^ poets some idea of what
Wank might be done with blank verse ; and those

who laughed loudest listened with admiration
to such lines as these : —

Our souls, whose faculties can comprehend
The wondrous architecture of the world,
And measure every wandering planet's course,
Still climbing after knowledge infinite,
And always moving as the restless spheres,
Will us to wear ourselves, and never rest,
Until we reach the ripest fruit of all.
That perfect bliss and sole felicity,
The sweet fruition of an earthly crown;

1580-1590] SHAKESPEARE'S CENTURY, 91

Remembering that the speaker is Tamburlaine, the hea-
then shepherd, to whom a throne is the loftiest glory that
imagination can reach, there is no bathos in the closing
line. The only fault is in the use of the word "earthly."
Marlowe knew well how to use proper names in his
verse ; and Queen Elizabeth, with her love of music and
her equal love of the magnificence of the royal estate,
must have enjoyed : —

And ride in triumph through Persepolis ?
Is it not brave to be a king, Techelles ?
Usumcasene and Theridamas,
Is it not passing brave to be a king,
And ride in triumph through Persepolis ?

Marlowe could write lightly and gracefully, as in his
" Come live with me and be my love." Then he is
charming, but it is his power rather than his grace that
lingers in the mind. More than once there are such
lines as, —

Weep not for Mortimer,
That scorns the world, and, as a traveller,
Goes to discover countries yet unknown, —

lines that might well have come from the pen of Shake-
speare. These are from the closing scene of Edward II,
Marlowe's last and finest play.

54. Events from 1580 to 1590. So the years passed
in England from 1580 to 1590, but one poet, Spenser,
was shut away from the literary life of his countrymen,*
which was becoming every day more glorious. A castle
and a vast tract of land in Ireland had been given him,
and there he dwelt and wrote ; but all the time he felt
like a prisoner, and he called his Irish home " that waste
where I was quite forgot." When he came from Ireland
in 1589 or 1590 to pay a visit to England, he found sev-
eral changes. Mary Queen of Scots had been beheaded,

92 ENGLAND'S LITERATURE [1590

and the most timid Protestant no longer feared revolu-
tion and a Roman Catholic sovereign. The Spanish
Armada had been conquered by the bravery of English
captains and the tempests of the heavens ; England was
mistress of the seas, and her bold mariners were free to
go where they would. The thoughts of many were turn-
ing toward the New World, and Sir Walter Raleigh had
even attempted to found a colony across the seas. One
note of sadness mingled with the joy of the nation. Sir
Death oi Philip Sidney was dead, and was mourned by a
sirPhiup whole kingdom. The bravery with which he

°°''' met the enemy in the fatal battle of Zutphen,
the self-forgetful courtesy with which he, refused, until
another should have drunk, the water that would have
eased his suffering, the gentle patience with which he
bore the long weeks of agony before the coming of the
end, — all this touched the English heart as it had never
before been touched. So enduring was the love which
he inspired that Fulke Greville, one of his boyhood com-
panions, who outlived him by twenty-two years, asked
that on his own tomb might be written, " Servant to
Queen Elizabeth, Councillor to King James, and Friend
to Sir Philip Sidney." Sidney requested that his Arcadia
should be destroyed, but his sister could not bear to
fulfil such a wish, and in 1590, while Spenser was in
England, it was printed.

55. The Faerie Queene. Spenser brought with him
Books I- from Ireland the little package that he had car-

m, 1590. . , 1° 1 C-- -ITT 1

Books IV- ried away, now grown much larger. Sir Wal-
VI, 1B96. ter Raleigh had visited him, and as they sat
under the alders by the river, Spenser had read aloud the
iirst three books of the Faerie Queene, for these were in
the precious little package. The poem was published in
1 590. It begins : —

IS90]

SHAKESPEARE'S CENTURY

93

A gentle Knight was pricking pn the plaine,
Ycladd in mightie armes and silver shielde,
Wherein old dints of deepe woundes did remaine,
The cruell tnarkes of many a bloody fielde ;
Yet armes till that time did he never wield :
His angry steede did chide his foming bitt,
As much disdayning to the curbe to yield :
Full ioUy knight he seemd, and faire did sitt,
As one for knightly giusts and fierce encounters fitt.

This " gentle knight " represented Holiness, who
was riding forth into the world to contest with Heresy.
Spenser planned to write
twelve books, each of
which was to celebrate
the victory of some vir-
tue over its contrary
vice. At the end of the
twelfth book the knights
were to return to the
land of Faerie. King
Arthur was then to re-
present the embodiment
of all these virtues, and
he was to wed the Queen
of Faerie, who was the
Glory of God. Together
with this was a very ma-
terial allegory, if it may
be so called, in which
Elizabeth is the Queen
of Faerie, Mary of Scot-
land is Error, etc. So
far even the double allegory is reasonably clear ; but
as the poem goes on, it wanders away and away, and is
so mingled with other allegories and changes of char-

THE RED CROSS KNIGHT

From the Faerie Queene

94 ENGLAND'S LITERATURE [1590-1600

acters that it is impossible to trace a connected story
through even the six books that were written of the
twelve that Spenser planned.

Tracing the story is a small matter, however. One
need not read an imaginative poem with a biographical
dictionary and a gazetteer. The allegory of the strug-
gle of evil with good is beautiful ; but one need not
trouble himself about the allegory. Read the poem
simply for its exquisite pictures, its wonderfully rich
and varied imagery, and the ever-changing music of its
verse, and you will share in some degree the pleasure
which for three hundred years Spenser has given to all
true lovers of poetry.

56. The decade of the sonnet, 1590-1600. From
1590 to 1600 the sonnet was the prevailing form of the
lyric. Sonnets were written in sequences, as they were
called, that is, in groups, each group generally telling
the story of the author's love for some lady fair who
was either real or imaginary. Spenser wrote beautiful,
Astropiiei musical sonnets, but Sidney's Astrophel and
pubUsLa' Stella, a sequence which was not published till
1591. 1591, gives one such a feeling that it must

be sincere that to read it seems almost like stealing
glances at his paper as he wrote. One of his best
sonnets is : —

With how sad steps, O Moon, thou climb'st the skies!

How silently, and with how wan a face !

What, may it be that even in heavenly place

That busy archer his sharp arrows tries !

Sure, if that long-with-love-acquainted eyes

Can judge of love, thou feel'st a lover's case,

I read it in thy looks ; the languisht grace,

To me, that feel the like, thy state descries :

Then, even of fellowship, O Moon, tell me.

Is constant love deem'd there but want of wit ?

IS94] SHAKESPEARE'S CENTURY 95

Are beauties there as proud as here they be ?
Do they above love to be lov'd, and yet
Those lovers scorn whom that love doth possess ?
Do they call virtue there ungratefulness ?

57. Richard Hooker, 1554 7-1600. During this
decade an important piece of prose was written by a
clergyman named Richard Hooker. He was a man of
much learning, but so shy that when he was lecturing
at Oxford he could hardly look his students in the
face. Even his shyness could not hide his merits, and
he was appointed to a prominent position in London.
It was not long, however, before he wrote an earnest
appeal to the archbishop to give him instead some hum-
ble village parish. London was full of controversies,
sometimes very bitter ones, between the Church of
England and the Puritans. Hooker was far too gentle
to meet disagreement and discord, but in his later and
more quiet home he produced a clear, strong book called
the Ecclesiastical Polity, which defended the Eooiesiasti-
position of the church, giving the reasons why boohsi-iv
he believed it to have the right to claim men's ism.
obedience. Prose in plenty had been written for some
special purpose, but this was something more than a
mere putting of words together to express a thought;
it was not only an argument, it was literature, and even
those who were not interested in its subject read it
for the grave harmony of its style and the dignity of its
phrasing.

58. "William Shakespeare, 1564-1616. It was in
this same decade that the full glory of the drama was
to burst forth. In 1564, the year of Marlowe's birth,
a child was born in the village of Stratford on the river
Avon who was to become the greatest of poets. His
father, John Shakespeare, was a well-to-do man, and

96 ENGLAND'S LITERATURE [1564-1583

held various offices in the village. This boy, William,
grew up much as did other boys of the place. He went
to school, studied Latin and possibly a little Greek.
Coventry was near, and there mystery plays were per-
formed. Kenilworth Castle was only fifteen miles away ;
and when Shakespeare was eleven years old. Queen
Elizabeth was its guest. No bright boy would let such
chances go by to see a mystery play or to have a glimpse
of his country's queen and the entertainments given in
her honor. In 1568, a company of London actors came
to Stratford. John Shakespeare as bailiff gave them a
formal welcome to the village ; and it is probable that
among, the earliest memories of his son were the sound
of their drums and trumpets, the beating of hoofs, and
the sight of banners and riders, of gorgeous costumes
flashing in the sun and gayly caparisoned horses pran-
cing down the street to the market-place.

More than a score of times the prancing steeds and
their riders visited Stratford ; and the country boy,
living quietly beside the Avon, must have had many
thoughts of the great world of London that was the
home of those fascinating cavalcades. He would not
have been a real boy if he had not determined to see
that marvellous city before many years should pass.

Not long after the festivities of Kenilworth, John
Shakespeare began to be less successful in his business
affairs. Thirteen or fourteen was not an early age for
a boy to be taken from school who did not intend to go
to the university; and it is probable that the boy Wil-
liam left school at that age and began to earn his own
living. For some years from that time the only thing
known of him is that he often crossed the fields by a
narrow lane that led to Shottery and the cottage of Anne
Hathaway, and that before he was nineteen she became

1586-1588] SHAKESPEARE'S CENTURY 97

his wife. In 1 586, the young man of twenty-two, with no
trade, with himself and wife and three children to sup-
port, with only dreams and courage and genius for capi-

SHAKESPEARE'S birthplace at STRATFORD

tal, made his way to London, possibly on horseback, but
more probably on foot. 1586 was the year of Sidney's
death. There could hardly be a greater ihspiration
toward honor and uprightness for a young man on his first
visit to London than to see the whole city grieving for
the death of one but ten years older than himself simply
because he whom they had lost was pure and true and
noble.

Just what Shakespeare did during those first two years
in London is not known, but he must have been con-
nected in some way with the theatre and have giake-
won the confidence of those in control, for as spoaro in
early as 1588 he was trusted to "retouch" at
least one play. This retouching was regarded as per-

98 ENGLAND'S LITERATURE [1590-1594

fectly allowable. There was no copyright law, and as

soon as a play had been printed, any theatre had a right

to use it, and any author had a right to alter it as he

chose. Two years later, the unknown young man from

the country had made a place for himself, and in 1590,

the year in which Spenser brought the first
Love's La- •' J^ ° 01 i

tour's Lost, part of the Faerie Queene to London, bhake-

aotod 1590. speare's merry little comedy. Love's Labour 's

Lost, was acted. This play does not reach the heights

of tragedy, of course, or even of his later comedies, but

it is freely and lightly drawn; it is full of fun and frolic,

and fairly sparkles with witty repartee. Shakespeare

had caught the fashion of euphuism, and he made fun of

it so merrily that its greatest devotees must have been

amused.

Play followed play : comedy, tragedy, history. It was
no idle life that he led, for the writing of five or six
plays is generally ascribed to the years 1590-1592 ; and
it must be remembered, too, that he was actor as well as
author. It was in 1592 that the dramatist Chettle wrote
of his excellent acting, and said, moreover, that he had
heard of his uprightness of dealing and his grace in
writing. Shakespeare was no longer an unknown actor.
Venus ani He was recognized as a successful playwright,
Adonis. and also as a poet, for his Venus and Adonis
Lucrece. and Lucrece had won a vast amount of admira-
1593-94. j-Jqjj u -pj^g mellifluous and honey-tongued
Shakespeare," one of the critics called him, and spoke
with praise of his " sugerd sonnets " that were passed
about among his friends.

59. Historical Plays. After some merry, sparkling
comedies, such as A Midsummer Night's Dream and
The Comedy of Errors, there came a time when the poet
seemed fascinated by the history of his own land. In

1596] SHAKESPEARE'S CENTURY 99

writing historical drama Shakespeare was never a stu-
dent-author ; Elizabethan life moved too rapidly for much
searching of old manuscripts and records. Shakespeare's
special power as a dramatist of history lay in his sympa-
thetic imagination by which he understood the men of
bygone days. He read their motives, he pictured them
as he could imagine himself to have been in their cir-
cumstances and with their qualities ; and more than

WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 1564-T616
The Chandos Portrait

once his interpretation of some historical character,
opposed as it was to the common belief of his time, has
been proved by later investigation to be correct.

Then came the Merchant of Venice and a group of
comedies, some of which have touches of boisterous

lOO ENGLAND'S LITERATURE [1596-1600

rant, while some are happy, romantic, and charmingly
The Met- graceful. In the Merchant of Venice perhaps
chant oi quite as much as in any other play, Shake-
15967 speare shows his power to make us hold a char-
acter in the balance. Shylock is cruel and miserly, but
we cannot help seeing with a tauch of sympathy that he
is oppressed and lonely ; Bassanio is a careless young
spendthrift, but so boyish and so frank that we forget
to be severe ; Portia is perfectly conscious of the value
of her wealth and her beauty, but at love's command she
is ready to drop both lightly into the hands of Bassanio.
Shakespeare's writing extended over a space of about
twenty years, half of which time belonged to the six-
teenth century and half to the seventeenth. If he had
died in 1600, we should think of him as a dramatist of
great skill in writing comedy, whether refined and
merry or rough and somewhat boisterous, and in writing
historical plays presenting the history of his own coun-
try ; but, save for some hint that Romeo and Jicliet might
give, we should have no idea of his unrivalled power in
writing tragedies. Those as well as his deeper come-
dies belonged to the following century.

Century XVI

SHAKESPEARE'S CENTURY

John Skelton. Thomas Norton.

Sir Thomas More. John Lyly.

WilHam Tyndale. Edmund Spenser.

Sir Thomas Wyatt. Sir Philip Sidney.

Earl of Surrey. The Elizabethan Miscellanies.

Toilers Miscellany. Christopher Marlowe.

John Heywood. Richard Hooker.

Nicholas Udall. William Shakespeare.

Thomas Sackville.

i6th Cent] SHAKESPEARE'S CENTURY lOI

SUMMARY

The minds of the English people and also their literature
were strongly affected, first, by the Renaissance; second, by
increased knowledge of the western world ; and, third, by the
discovery that the earth is not the centre of the universe.

During the reign of Henry VIII, English literature centred
around him. John Skelton was his tutor ; Sir Thomas More
one of his courtiers.

Religious questions were much discussed. William Tyn-
dale translated the New Testament. Henry's disagreement
with the pope led to the separation of the Church of England
from the Church of Rome.

About the middle of the century, the courtiers Wyatt and
Surrey introduced the Italian sonnet and the carefulness of
Italian poetry. Surrey introduced blank verse. Their poems
were published in TotteVs Miscellany.

The drama progressed step by step. Mysteries and moral-
ities still flourished. Masques and interludes came into favor.
John Heywood wrote the most successful interludes. The
first English comedy was Ralph Roister Doister, written by
Nicholas Udall. The first English tragedy was Gorboduc,
written by Sackville and Norton.

In the reign of Elizabeth the power of England increased ;
literature manifested greater boldness. Religious writings,
translations, apd stories appeared in great numbers, but the
glory of the latter half of her reign was the drama. All species
of drama flourished ; all kinds of metre and also prose were
employed. The pressing needs were, first, carefulness of
form ; and, second, an appropriate and generally accepted
metre. A strong influence in favor of carefulness of form was
exerted by the Euphues of Lyly, by The Shepherd's Calendar
of Spenser, and succeeding pastorals, and by Sidney's Ar-
cadia and also his sonnets circulated in manuscript.

The drama now increased rapidly in excellence, but still
had no standard metre and did riot attain to the highest suc-
cess in the delineation of character. It contained, however,

102 ENGLAND'S LITERATURE [i6th Cent.

beautiful little songs. Finally, Marlowe showed the capabili-
ties of blank verse, and this became the accepted metre.

In 1590, the first three books of the Faerie Queenewere pub-
lished. During the following decade the sonnet flourished.
Hooker wrote his Ecclesiastical Polity, and the glory of the
drama burst forth in the works of Wilham Shakespeare, who
solved the great dramatic problem, how to make the charac-
ters seem like real people.

CHAPTER VI

CENTURY XVII

PURITANS AND ROYALISTS

60. Shakespeare in the seventeenth century. In
1603, Queen Elizabeth died and James of Scotland be-
came the sovereign of England. The inspiration of the
age of Elizabeth lingered for some years after her death,
and the work of Shakespeare, its greatest glory, ex-
tended far into the reign of James. His genius broad-
ened and deepened, and he gave to the new century
his deeper comedies and a superb group of tragedies,
Hamlet, King Lear, and others. His plays grow more
intense, more powerful. Sometimes he uses bitter irony.
Stern retribution is visited upon both weak and wicked.
There is a touch of gloom. Magnificent as these dramas
are, it is good to come away from them to the ripple
of the sea, to the breeze of the meadow land, to his last
group of plays, the joyous and beautiful romantic dramas,
such as the Winters Tale, Cymbeline, and, last of all,
it may be. The Tempest, that marvellous production in
which a child may find a fairytale, a philosopher sugges-
tion and mystery and that " solemn vision " of life that
comes in the midst of the wonders of the magic island.

When Shakespeare's sonnets were written and to
whom they were written is not known. If the ^,5
whole aim of their author had been to puzzle sonnets,
his readers, he could not have succeeded better. Some
seem to have been written to a man, others to a woman.

I04 ENGLAND'S LITERATURE [17th Cent.

Some are exquisitely beautiful, some are fairly rollicking
in boyish mischievousness. Some express sincere love,
some are apparently trying to see how far a roguish
mock devotion can be concealed by charm of phrase
and rhythm. Here are such perfect lines as

Bare, ruin'd choirs, where late the sweet birds sang.'
Here is his honest

My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun.
Coral is far more red than her lips' red, —

wherein he makes fun of the poetic rhapsodies of Eliza-
bethan lovers. Here, too, is his mischievous sonnet,
which pictures — though in most musical language — a
woman chasing a hen, while her deserted lover begs her
to come back and be a mother to him ! These sonnets
were published without their author's permission, and
he took no step to explain them. Every student of the
poet's work has his own interpretation. Which is cor-
rect, Shakespeare alone could tell us.

Shakespeare is the world's greatest poet. His genius
consists, first, in reading men and women better than
Shake- ^.ny One else has ever read them, in knowing
speare's what a person of certain traits would do under
certain circumstances, and how the scenes
through which that person passed would affect his char-
acter; second, in his ability to express that knowledge
with such perfection of form and such brilliancy of im-
agination as has never been equalled ; third, in the fact
that his power both to read and to express was sus-
tained. The dramatists who preceded him and those
who worked by his side often had flashes and gleams of
insight and momentary powers of expression that were
worthy of him ; but the power to see clearly throughout
the five acts of a play and to express with equal excel-

l597-i6ii] PURITANS AND ROYALISTS 105

lence and consistency the character of the clown and of
the king was not theirs.

WilHam Shakespeare was no supernatural being; he
was a very human man. Certainly he never thought of
himself as sitting on a pinnacle manufacturing
English classics. He threw himself into his speare as
poetry, but he never forgot that he was writing *""*"■
plays for people to act and for people to see. No really
good work of literature flows from the pen without
thought. Shakespeare worked very rapidly, but the
thinking was done at some time, either when he took up
his pen or beforehand. He was a straightforward busi-
ness man, who paid his debts and intended that what
was due to him should be paid. He loved his early
home and planned, perhaps from the time that he left it,
to return to Stratford. Money came to him rapidly,
especially after 1599, when the Globe Theatre was built,
in which he seems to have owned a generous share.
Two years earlier he had been able to buy New Place
in Stratford, and about 161 1 he returned to his native
town. A vast change it must have been to the man
whose dramas had won the admiration of the people and
of their queen, to come to a quiet village now grown so
puritanical that its council had solemnly decreed that
the acting of plays within its limits should be regarded
as an unlawful deed. He was away from his London
friends and their brilliant meetings at the Mermaid Inn,
of which one of them, Francis Beaumont, wrote : —

What things have we seen
Done at the Mermaid ! heard words that have been
So nimble and so full of subtle flame.
As if that everyone from whence they came
Had meant to put his whole wit in a jest.
And had resolved to live a fool the rest
Of his dull life.

I06 ENGLAND'S LITERATURE [1552-1618

No word of complaint or of loneliness has come down
to us. In Stratford were his wife, his two daughters,
and the little granddaughter, Elizabeth. There are tra-
ditions of visits from his old friends. He had wealth,
fame, the home of his choice. In the village of his birth
the poet died in i6i6, and was buried in the church that
still stands beside the river Avon.

61. Sir "Walter Raleigh, 1552-1618. Wonderful peo-
ple were those Elizabethans ; for every one seemed to
be able to do everything. Perhaps the best example of
the man of universal ability is Sir Walter Raleigh, an
explorer, a colonizer, the manager of a vast Irish estate,
a vice-admiral, a captain of the guard, and a courtier
whose flattery could delight even so well flattered a
woman as Queen Elizabeth. Moreover, when King
James imprisoned him under a false charge of treason,
this soldier and sailor and colonizer became an author
Raleigh's and produced among other writings a History
toewTrid °f^''^^ World. He tells the story clearly and
1614. pleasantly. Sometimes he is eloquent, some-
times poetical ; e. g. he speaks of the Roman Empire as
a tree standing in the middle of a field. " But after some
continuance," he says, " it shall begin to lose the beauty
it had ; the storms of ambition shall beat her great
boughs and branches one against another ; her leaves
shall fall off, her limbs wither, and a rabble of barbarous
nations enter the field and cut her down."

Several of the literary giants who began their work in
the days of Queen Elizabeth are counted as of the times
of James. The greatest of these were the philosopher
Francis Bacon and the dramatist Ben Jonson.

62. Francis Bacon, 1561-1626. Francis Bacon seems
to have been " grown up " from his earliest childhood.
He was the son of Elizabeth's Lord Keeper, and it is said

1561-1597] PURITANS AND ROYALISTS 107

that as a boy his dignity and intelligence delighted her
Majesty so much that she often questioned him on all
sorts of subjects to see what he would answer. One day
when she asked how old he was, he replied with all the
readiness of an experienced courtier, " I am two years
younger than your Majesty's happy reign." When he
was little more than a youth, he declared gravely that he
had " taken all knowledge " for his province. In most
young men this would have been an absurd speech, but in
view of what Bacon actually accomplished it seems hardly
more than the truth. He was only thirteen when he en-
tered the university, but during his three years of resi-
dence, this boy put his finger on the weak spot in the
teaching and study of the day. The whole aim seemed
to be, he declared, not to discover new truths, but to go
over and over the old ones.

Nothing would have pleased him better than to have
means enough to live comfortably while he thought and
wrote, but he had no fortune. " I must think how to
live," he said, "instead of living only to think." The
young man of eighteen looked about him, and concluded
to study law and try to win the patronage of the queen.
In his legal studies he was so successful that his reason-
ing and eloquence were equally pleasing ; but the queen's
patronage was beyond his reach, for she would give him
only just enough favor to keep him ever hoping for
more.

In the midst of his disappointments he wrote ten
essays, which were published in 1597. They were on
such subjects as Study, Expense, Followers Essays,
and Friends, Reputation, etc., and they seemed 1697.
in many respects more like the reflections of a man of
^ixty-three than one of thirty-six. They are so full of
wisdom, and the wisdom is expressed so clearly and

I08 ENGLAND'S LITERATURE [1603-1621

definitely, that some parts of them seem almost like a
sequence of proverbs. Among the sentences most quoted
are these : —

Some books are to be tasted, others to be swallowed, and some
few to be chewed and digested ; that is, some books are to be read
only in parts ; others to be read, but not curiously ; and some few
to be read wholly and with diligence and attention. . . Reading
maketh a full man, conference a ready man, and writing an exact
man.

After James came to the throne, Bacon was raised
from one position to another, until at last he became
Bacon Lord High Chancellor. He lived with the ut-

LorOHfgii ™ost magnificence ; he had fame, wealth, rank,
Chancellor, and the favor of his sovereign. He had also
enemies, and before three years had passed, a charge
of accepting bribes was brought against him. He was
declared guilty ; but his real guilt was far less than that
of such a deed if done two centuries later ; for the ac-
ceptance of bribes, or gifts, by men in high legal posi-
tions was a custom of long standing. No attempt was
made to show that these gifts had made him decide even
one cause unjustly.

Bacon's public life was ended, but it is quite possible
that the few years which remained to him were his happi-
est, for, living quietly wit"h his family, he had at last the
leisure for thought for which he had longed. Sometime
before this he had published more essays, and he had
instauratio already begun the great work of his life, the In-
'"*^*- stauratio Magna, that is, the "great institution "
of true philosophy. This undertaking was the outgrowth
of his boyish criticism of Oxford. He planned that the
work should give a summary of human knowledge in all
branches and should point out a system by which advance-
ment might be made. The philosophers of the day were

i6ll-i62o] PURITANS AND ROYALISTS IO9

satisfied with words rather than things ; in seeking for
knowledge of nature, for instance, it seemed to them the
proper scholastic method, not to study nature herself but
to reason out what seemed to be a fitting law. jj^^^^
In Bacon's Novum Organum, or " new instru- Organnm.
ment," he taught that in the study of nature, or
in the study of the action of the human mind, men ought,
first, to notice how nature and the mind worked, and from
this knowledge to derive general laws. The former way
of reasoning was called deductive, i. e., first make the rule
and then explain the facts by it. Bacon's philosophy was
inductive, i. e., first collect examples and from them form
a rule. Inductive reasoning was not original with Bacon
by any means. His glory lies in his eliminating all inac-
curate, worthless notions, and in his firm belief that all
reasoning should lead to advancement of knowledge and
to practical good. He said, " I have held up a light . . .
which will be seen centuries after I am dead ; ' and he
was right, for it is according to his system that all pro-
gress in laws, in commerce, and in science has been
made.

63. The "King James version" of the Bible, 1611.
Bacon wrote in Latin because he believed that; while
English might pass away, Latin would live forever ; but
in 161 1, while he was coming to this decision, the Bible
was again translated, and the translation was so excellent
and later events made its reading so universal, that this
one book alone would almost have saved the English lan-
guage, if there had been any possibility of its being for-
gotten. This version was the one which is now in gen-
eral use, the " authorized version," or the " King James
version," as it is called. Simply as a piece of literature,
it is of priceless value. The sonorous rhythm of the
Psalms, the dignified simplicity of the Gospels, the

no ENGLAND'S LITERATURE [iS73-iS97

splendid imagery of the Revelation, — all these are ex-
pressed in clear, concise, and often beautiful phrase,
whose influence on the last three hundred years of
English literature cannot be too highly esteemed.

64. Ben Jonson, 1573 9-1637. When Shakespeare
returned to Stratford he left London full of playwrights.
Many of them had great talent in some one line. Ford
and Webster had special power in picturing sorrow and
suffering ; Beaumont and Fletcher, who worked to-
gether, constructed their plots with unusual skill and
wrote most exquisite little songs ; Chapman has many
graceful, beautiful passages ; Dekker, as Charles Lamb
said, had " poetry enough for anything : " but there was
no second Shakespeare. He stood alone, better than
all others in all respects. The playwright who stood
nearest to him in greatness was Ben Jonson. He was
nine years younger than Shakespeare. He was a Lon-
don boy, and knew little of the simple country life with
which Shakespeare was so familiar. His stepfather
taught him his own trade of bricklaying, much to the
boy's disgust, for he was eager to go on in school. This
privilege came to him through the kindness of strangers,
and, as one of his friends said later, he "barrelled up
a great deal of knowledge." For a while he served as a
soldier in the Netherlands. All this was before he was
twenty, for at that age he had found his way to the thea-
tre and was trying to act. As an actor, he was not a
great success, but he soon showed that he could suc-
ceed in that " retouching " of old plays which served
young writers as a school for the drama. The next
Every Man thing known of him is that in 1597, when he
Humour. ^^^ twenty-four years of age, he wrote a play
1597. called Every Man in His Humour, which was

presented at the theatre with which Shakespeare was

IS97-I637] PURITANS AND ROYALISTS

III

connected. There is a tradition that Shakespeare was

much interested in the young writer, that he persuaded

the managers that

the play would be

a success, and that

he himself took part

in it.

This maker of
plays who had " bar-
relled up a great
deal of knowledge "
was most profoundly
interested in the clas-
sic drama. The an-
cient dramatists be-
lieved that in every
play three laws should
be carefully observed.
The first was that
every part of a drama
should help to develop

one main story ; this was the unity of plot, and was
obeyed by Shakespeare as well as Jonson. The Theiuu-
second was that the time required by the inci- *'*^'
dents of a drama should never be longer than a single day ;
this was the unity of time. The third was that the whole
action should occur in one place ; this was the unity of
place. In the romantic drama, like Shakespeare's plays,
the characters develop, and the reader sees at gj^^ _
the end of a play that they have been changed speare and
by the experiences that they have met with. In "'''"^'"'•
Jonson's plays, the characters have only one day's life,
and they are the same at the end as at the beginning.
Shakespeare's characters seem alive, and we discuss

BEN JONSON

112 ENGLAND'S LITERATURE [1597-163?

them, their deeds, and their motives, as if they were men
and women of history. We may talk of Jonson's plots,
but no one thinks of his characters as ever having lived.
The law of unity of place prevented the writer from
moving his scene easily and naturally as in real life, and
this adds to their unrealness. Another respect in which
the two writers were quite unlike was that Shakespeare
seems to mingle with his characters and to sympathize
with every one of them, no matter how unlike they are,
while Jonson stands a little one side and manufactures
them ; for instance, both wrote plays whose scenes were
laid in Rome. Shakespeare shows us the thoughts and
feelings of his Romans, but he is careless in regard to
manners and customs ; Jonson is exceedingly accurate
in all such details, but he forgets to put real people into
his Roman dress. The result is that, while Shake-
speare's Romans are men and women like ourselves,
Jonson's are hardly moi;e than lay figures. Shakespeare
treats a Roman " like a vera brither ; " Jonson treats
even his English characters as persons whose faults he
is free to satirize as much as he chooses. In his first
comedy he takes the ground that every one has some
one special " humour," or whim, which is the governing
power of his life. He names his characters according
to this theory, and his Kno'well, Cash, Clement, Down-
right, Wellbred, etc., recall the times of the morality
plays.

Why is it, then, that with this unrealness, this lack
of human interest, such excellence should have been
Jonson's found in the plays of Jonson .? It is because he
excellence, observed SO closely, because he was so learned
and strong and manly, and especially because his fancy
was so dainty and beautiful that no one could help being
charmed by it. He wrote a number of plays. Every

i6io] PURITANS AND ROYALISTS II3

one of them is worth reading ; but really to enjoy Jon-
son, one must read what he wrote when he forgot that
the faults of his time ought to be reformed, that is, his
masques, which he composed to please the king; for
somehow James discovered that this pedant could for-
get his pedantry, that this wilful, satirical, overbear-
ing, social, genial, warm-hearted author of rather chilly
plays could write most exquisite masques. In jongon's
masques Jonson saw no need of observing the masques,
unities ; it was all in the land of fancy, and here his
fancy had free rein. Of course he praised King
James with the utmost servility ; but to give such
praise in a masque to be acted before the king was not
only good policy but it was a custom, and almost as much
a literary fashion as writing sonnets or pastorals. In
the masque most elaborate scenery was employed, and
every device of light and dancing and music. Masque of
In the Masque of Oberon, for instance, the sat- Pgjn""'
yrs "fell suddenly into an antick dance full leii.
of gesture and swift motion." The crowing of the cock
was heard, and, as the old stage directions say, " The
whole palace opened, and the nation of Faies were dis-
covered, some with instruments, some bearing lights,
others singing," — and Jonson knew well how to write
graceful song that was perfectly adapted to jjiesaa
these fascinating scenes. He is rarely ten- shephora.
der, but in his Sad Shepherd, an unfinished play, there
are the exquisite lines : —

Here she was wont to go, and here, and here !
Just where those daisies, pinks, and violets grow ;
The world may find the spring by following her ;
For other print her airy steps ne'er left :
Her treading would not bend a blade of grass,
Or shake the downy blow-ball from his stalk.

114 ENGLAND'S LITERATURE [1606-1616

Scattered through Jonson's plays are such beautiful
bits of poetry as this ; and when we read them, we for-
give him his Downright and Wellbred and his affection
for the unities.

65. The Tribe of Ben. Jonson became Poet Lau-
reate, the first poet regularly appointed to hold that
position ; but his courtly honors can hardly have given
him as much real pleasure as the devotion of the younger
literary men, the " Tribe of Ben," as they were called,
who gathered around him with frank admiration and
liking.

The romantic plays that most resembled the drama

of Shakespeare were written in partnership by two men,

^ , Francis Beaumont and John Fletcher. Hardly

Francis •' ■ ■'

Beaumont, anything is known of their lives except that

1 RflA 1 fil R ■

John" ' they were warm friends and kept bachelor's hall
pietciier, together. Beaumont was twenty and Fletcher
twenty-seven when their partnership began ;
and it lasted for ten years, or until the death of Beau-
mont, after which Fletcher continued alone. Working
together was a common practice among the dramatists,
and sometimes we can trace almost with certainty the
lines of a play written by one man and those written by
his fellow-worker ; but in the case of Beaumont and
Fletcher, the closest study has resulted in little more
than elaborate guesswork. These two come nearest to
Shakespeare on his own lines, that is, they can read
men well, and they can put their thoughts into beautiful
verse ; but in the third point of Shakespeai-e's greatness
they are lacking ; Shakespeare could sustain himself,
Beaumont and Flet<bher often fail. Their characters
are not always what their natural traits and circum-
stances should have made them.

Beaumont died in 1616, the year of Shakespeare's

1623-1642] PURITANS AND ROYALISTS IIS

death. Seven years later, thirty-six of Shakespeare's
plays were collected and published in a book Zionist
which is known as the Fm^F^/z^. Ben Jonson foiio,1623.
wrote the dedication, "To the memory of my beloved
Master William Shakespeare, and what he hath left us."
His poem is fairly glowing with love and appreciation
and admiration for the man who would not observe the
unities. It is full of such enthusiastic lines as, —

Soul of the age !
The applause, delight, the wonder of our stage !

He was not of an age, but for all time.

While I confess thy writings to be such

As neither Man nor Muse can praise too much.

Ben Jonson was not given to singing indiscriminate
praises, and these words speak volumes for the sturdy
friendship between the two men who differed so hon-
estly about what pertained to their art. Stories were
told many years afterwards of the "wit-combats " which
had taken place between the two ; of Jonson's solid,
learned arguments and Shakespeare's inventive, quick-
witted retorts. It would be worth a whole library full
of ordinary books to have a verbatim report of only one
of those merry meetings.

66. Closing of the theatres, 1642. Ben Jonson
died in 1635, and only seven years later the drama
came to an abrupt end by the breaking out of the Civil
War and the passage of a law closing the theatres.
Perhaps the coming of the end should not be called
abrupt, for the glory of the Elizabethan drama dj^^jj^jj
had been gradually fading away. Looking back of the
upon it from the vantage ground of nearly
three centuries, it is easy to see that the beginning of
the downfall was in the work of rugged, honest, obsti-

Il6 ENGLAND'S LITERATURE [1642

nate, and altogether delightful Ben Jon son ; for with
him the drama first put an attempt to reform society
before an attempt to picture society, an exaggeration of
a single trait of a man before a delineation of the whole
character of the man. Little by little the first inspira-
tion vanished, and did not leave behind it the ability to
distinguish good from evil. Beautiful lyrics and worth-
less doggerel stood side by side. There was a demand
for "something new." Plots were no longer probable
or fascinatingly impossible, they were simply improb-
able. Characters gradually ceased to be interesting.
Worse than this, they were often unpleasant. The
court of his Majesty James I. was not marked by an
exquisite decorum in either speech or manner. Vul-
garity and coarseness filtered down from the throne to
the theatres ; it was time that they were closed.

6*7. Increasing power of the Puritans. A second
reason for the decadence of the drama is so intertwined
with the first that they can hardly be separated, namely,
the ever-increasing power of the Puritans. Even be-
fore 161 1, their influence had become so strong that in
numerous places besides Stratford it was forbidden to
act plays. Many years earlier, even before Shakespeare
first went to London, some of the Puritans wrote most
earnestly against play-acting. One spoke of " Poets,
Pipers, Plaiers, Jesters, and such-like caterpillars of a
Commonwealth ; " but he had the grace to except some
few plays which he thought of better character than the
rest. One strong reason why the Puritans opposed
plays at that time was because they were performed on
Sundays as well as week-days, and people were inclined
to obey the trumpet of the theatre rather than the bell
of the church. Sunday acting was given up, and as the
years passed, not only the Puritans, but those among

1642-1660] TURITANS AND ROVALISTS II7

their opponents who looked upon life thoughtfully, be-
gan to feel that the theatre, with the immorality and in-
decency of many of the plays then in vogue. Theatrical
was no place for them. It was abandoned to a^flionces.
the thoughtless, to those who cared little for the char-
acter of a play so long as it amused them, and to those
who had no dislike for looseness of manners and laxness
of principles. Such was the audience to whom play-
wrights had begun to cater. In 1642 came war between
the king and the people. In 1649 K^ing Charles was be-
headed, and until 1660 the Puritan party was in power.

68. Literature of the confliot. Aside from the work
of the dramatists, whose business it was to gratify the
taste of their audiences, what kind of writing would
naturally be produced in such a time of conflict, when
so many were becoming more and more thoughtful of
matters of religious living and when the line between
the Puritans and the followers of the court was being
drawn more closely every year .-' We should look first
for a meditative, critical spirit in literature ; then for
earnestly religious writings, both prose and poetry, from
both Puritan and Churchman ; and along with these a
lighter, merrier strain from the courtier writers, not
necessarily irreligious, but distinctly non-religious.

69. John Donne, 1573-1631. This is precisely
what came to pass ; but in this variety of literary pro-
ductions there was hardly an author who was not influ-
enced by the writings of a much admired preacher and
poet named John Donne, the Dean of St. Paul's. His
life covered the reign of James and two thirds of that of
Elizabeth, but just when his poems were written is not
known. They are noted for two qualities. One of
these was so purely his own that no one could imitate
it, the power to illuminate his subject with a sudden and

Il8 ENGLAND'S LITERATURE [1573-1631

flashing thought. That is why stray lines of Donne's
linger in the memory, such as —

I long to talk with some old lover's ghost,
Who died before the god of love was born.

Unfortunately, it was the second quality which was so
generally imitated. This was, not the flashing out of a
thought, but the wrapping it up and concealing it so
that it requires a distinct intellectual effort to find out
what is meant ; for instance, in the very poem just
quoted are the lines : —

But when an even flame two hearts did touch,
His [Love's] office was indulgently to fit
Actives to passives ; correspondency
Only his subject was ; it cannot be
Love, if I love who loves not me.

Of course one finally reasons it out that Donne means
to say love should inspire love, that " I love " and " I
am loved " should "fit; " but by that time the reader
is inclined to agree with honest Ben Jonson, who de-
clared that Donne " for not being understood would per-
ish."

Sometimes, again, Donne conceals his thought in so
complicated, far-fetched a simile that one has to stop
and reason out its significance. He writes of two souls,
his own and that of his beloved : —

If they be two, they are two so

As stiff twin compasses are two ;
Thy soul, the fixed foot, makes no show

To move, but doth if th' other do.

And though it in the centre sit.
Yet when the other far doth roata.

It leans and hearkens after it,
And grows erect as that comes home.

i6o8-i66o] PURITANS AND ROYALISTS

119

"Conceits."

These " conceits," as they were called, greatly influ-
enced the poets of the age. There were also two other
influences, that of Ben Jonson for carefulness
of form and expression, and that of Spenser,
still remembered, for beauty and sweetness and richness
of imagery ; but of these three influences, that of Donne
was by fgir the strongest.

70. John Milton, 1608-1674. Of the poets who
wrote between 1625 and 1660, John Milton stands for
the poetry of medita-
tion. He was born in
1608, the son of a
wealthy Londoner. The
father was anxious that
his son should devote
himself to literature ;
and when he saw how
perfectly the boy's
wishes harmonized with
his own, he left him ab-
solutely free to follow
his own will. Less free-
dom in some respects
might have been bet-
ter ; for this boy of twelve with weak eyes and frequent
headaches went to school daily, had also tutors at home,
and made it his regular practice to study until midnight.
He entered Cambridge at sixteen, not the ideal book-
worm by any means, for he was so beautiful that he was
nicknamed the "Lady of Christ's College."

While Milton was still a student, he wrote his Hymn
on the Morning of Christ's Nativity, a most exquisite
Christmas poem. The stanzas are perfect wherein his
learning serves only for adornment and his mind is full

JOHN MILTON

I 608-1 6 74

I20 ENGLAND'S LITERATURE [1629-1638

of the thought of the Christ Child ; but some of those
Hymn on toward the end of the poem, which are a little
tiieMoming weighed down by his learning, have less charm.
Nativity. This poem, one of Milton's earliest as it was,
1629. has a kind of unearthly sweetness of melody

and clearness of vision. It seems to have come from
another world ; to have been written in a finer, rarer
atmosphere. The feeling deepens on reading L Allegro,
II Penseroso, the masque Conius, and Lycidas, all com-
posed within six years after Milton left the university
and while he was devoting himself to music and study at
his father's country home. He was only twenty-nine
when the last of these poems was written. The first two,
whose titles may be translated " The Cheerful Man " and
"The Thoughtful Man," are descriptions, not of nature,
but of the way nature affects the poet when he is in dif-
ferent moods. It is interesting to compare Milton's work
with that of earlier times. In L' Allegro he writes : —

Mountains on whose barren breast
The labouring clouds do often rest :
Meadows trim with daisies pied;
Shallow brooks and rivers wide :
Towers and battlements it sees
Bosomed high in tufted trees.

Surrey loved nature, but this is the way he describes a
similar scene : —

The mountains high and how they stand !
The valleys and the great main land !
The trees, the herbs, the towers strong,
The castles and the rivers long !

Poems

1638.

Poetry made noble progress in the century
that lay between the two writers.

L Allegro and // Penseroso reveal Milton
himself. L Allegro speaks of jest and laughter

1632-1639] PURITANS AND ROYALISTS 121

and dancing and mirth ; but Milton is not made mirthful,
he is only an onlooker, he is never one of those who

have —

Come forth to play-
On a sunshine holyday.

Shakespeare we admire and love ; Milton we admire. Of
the other poems, Comus is a masque which was presented
at Ludlow Castle. Lycidas is an elegy in memory of a
college friend. It follows the pastoral fashion, and the
best way to enjoy it is toread it over and over until the
"flock" and "shepherd" and "swain" no longer seem
artificial and annoying; and then come appreciation and
pleasure. Milton had ever the courage of his convic-
tions. Even in Comus and Lycidas, a masque and an
elegy, there are stern lines rebuking the evils of the
times and the scandals of the church. It was easy to
see on which side Milton would stand when the struggle
broke out between the king and the Puritans.

71. Milton as a pamphleteer. When it was plain that
war must come, Milton was travelling on the Continent,
honored and admired wherever he went by the men of
greatest distinction. He had planned a much longer
stay ; but " I thought it base to be travelling for amuse-
ment abroad while my fellow-citizens were striking a
blow for freedom," he said, and forthwith he set off for
England. War had not yet broken out, but this earnest
Puritan began to write pamphlets against the Church of
England and against the king. In his pamphlets of
controversy he seizes any weapon that comes to hand ;
dignified rebuke, a whirlwind of denunciation, bitter
sarcasm, or sheer insolence and railing, but never humor.
In his prose he has small regard for form or feveri for
the convenience of his readers ; in his Areopagitica, a
plea for freedom of the press, his sentences are over-

122 ENGLAND'S LITERATURE [1639-1651

powering in their length ; three hundred words is by no
means an unusual number : and yet, whether his sen-
tences are long or short, simple or involved, there is
seldom wanting that same magnificent flow of har-
mony that is the glory of his poetry. Milton is always
Milton.

Among his pamphlets are some that he wrote on di-
vorce. In the midst of the war, he, the stern Puritan,
Milton's married young Mary Powell, the daughter of
maniaBe. an ardent Royalist. After one gloomy month
she returned to her own more cheerful home, and in the
two years that passed before she would come back to
him, he comforted himself by arguing in favor of divorce.

Charles was executed in 1649, and when Cromwell
became Lord Protector, Milton was made his Latin sec-
retary. Milton seems cold and unapproachable,
Hilton as -' . . , r 1 •

Latin but in one weighty act during the years of his

sooretary. secretaryship he comes nearer to us than at
any other time. The son of the dead King Charleg was
in France, and in his behalf a Latin pamphlet had been
written by one of the most profound scholars of the time,
upholding the course of Charles and declaring those who
brought him to his death to be murderers. The Royal-
ists were jubilant, for they thought no adequate reply
could be given. The Puritans who knew John Milton
best were confident, for they believed that he could con-
fute the reasoning. It was a work requiring study and
Defence oJ research as well as skill in argument. Milton
peo^ie^"^' began, but very soon the question came to him,
1651. whether to complete the paper or to save him-

self from blindness, for he found that his sight was
rapidly failing. He made his choice and wrote his De-
fence of the English People. Three years later, sitting
in total darkness, he wrote, —

t

1637-1660] PURITANS AND ROYALISTS I23

What supports me, dost thou ask?
The conscience, Friend, t'have lost them overplied
In liberty's defence, my noble task.

72. Milton's sonnets. From 1637 to 1660 Milton

wrote nothing but these stern, earnest pamphlets and

a few sonnets, one in honor of Cromwell, and on the Late

one. On the Late Massacre in Piemont, that Massacre in

' Flemont.

sounds like the fiercest denunciations of a 16B5.

Hebrew prophet. One sonnet is on his own blindness;

and here every one must bow in reverence, for, shut

up in hopeless darkness, he grieves only lest his " one

PRINTING-OFFICE OF 1619

talent " is lodged with him useless, and the last line
fairly glows with a transfigured courage, —

They also serve who only stand and wait.
Milton had need of courage, for in 1660 the power of

124 ENGLAND'S LITERATURE [1593-1633

the Puritans was gone. The country was tired of their
„,,. ^ strict laws, and Charles II, son of the be-
theRosto- headed Charles, was brought back in triumph
to the throne of his fathers. Milton might
well have been pardoned for feeling that his sacrifices
were wasted. He was not without consolation, how-
ever, for in his mind there was an ever brightening
vision of a glorious work that he hoped to accomplish
even in his darkness.

73. The religious poets, Herbert, Crashaw, Vaughan.
Leaving for a while Milton, the poet of meditation, we
return to the other writers of the time of contest be-
tween the king's claim and the people's right ; first, to the
religious authors, poets, and prose writers. The best
known work of most of them was done between 1640 and
1650, save for that of George Herbert, who died in 1633.

74. George Herbert, 1593-1633. Herbert was born
of a noble family, and was expected to do honor to it by
entering court life. At first all things went smoothly.
He had hardly taken his degree before honors were
shown him which seemed the first steps to political ad-
vancement. In a very short time, however, the friends
died upon whom he had depended for influence with
King James ; and he suddenly concluded to enter the
church. His fashion of deciding momentous questions
with a startling promptness he carried into other mat-
ters ; for, three days after meeting the young woman
who won his heart, their marriage took place. Again,
when a more important position was offered him than
the one which he held,' he refused to accept it ; but
having yielded to the archbishop's arguments, he ordered
the proper canonical garments to be made ready on the
following morning, put them on at once, and was inducted
before night.

1 633]

PURITANS AND ROYALISTS

125

This man of rapid decisions had a sweet face and a
gentle, courteous manner that won him friends wherever'
he went. He was the
most modest of men,
arid in his last sickness
he directed that his po-
ems should be burned,
unless the friend to
whom he entrusted
them thought they
would be of advantage
to "any poor, dejected
soul."

The writings were
printed, and became
very popular. The
name of the volume
was The Temple. It
contained more than
one hundred and fifty
short religious poems. They have not the richness of
the lyrics of the dramatists, they have not the TheTem-
learning or the imagination of Milton ; but ''*■ ■'■^^^'
they are so sincere, so earnest, and so practical that they
were loved from the first. Herbert's is an every-day
religion ; he is not afraid to speak of simple needs and
simple duties. In his Elixir, which begins with the
childlike petition, —

Teach me, my God and King,
In all things Thee to see,
And what I do in anything,

To do it as for Thee, — **

GEORGE HERBERT
1593-1633

he inserts the homely, helpful stanza, —

126 ENGLAND'S LITERATURE [1646

A servant with this clause
Makes drudgery divine :
Who sweeps a room as for Thy laws,
Makes that and th' action fine.

Herbert is full of conceits. After writing a beautiful
little poem about the blessing of rest being withheld
from man that for want of it he may be drawn to God,
he named his poem The Pulley ! He wrote verses in
the shape of an altar and in the shape of wings ; he
wrote verses like these : —

I bless Thee, Lord, because I GROW
Among the trees, which in a ROW
To Thee both fruit and order OW.

But one willingly pardons such whims to the man who
could write the christianized common sense of The
Church Porch and the tender, sunlit verses of —

Sweet day, so cool, so calm, so bright.

75. Richard Crashaw, 1615-1650. The names of
two other religious poets of the time are familiar, Richard
Crashaw and Henry Vaughan. Crashaw, as well as
Herbert and Vaughan, was of the Church of England,
but he afterwards became a Roman Catholic and spent
steps to tie ^^^ '^^^ years in Italy. In 1646 he published
Altar. Steps to the Altar and also Delights of the

Muses ; the first a book of religious verse, the
second of secular.

Crashaw is best remembered by a single line of reli-
gious verse, the translation of his Latin line in reference
to Christ's changing of water into wine, —

The conscious water saw its Lord and blushed, —
Vidit et erubuit nympha pudice Deum ;

and also by his lightly written but half-earnest verses,
Wishes to His {Supposed) Mistress : —

i6so] PURITANS AND ROYALISTS 12/

Whoe'er she be,

That not impossible she,

That shall command my heart and me.

He goes on endowing her with every beauty and every
virtue. He writes : —

Her that dares be

What these lines wish to see :

I seek no further ; it is she. '

He ought to end here, but he continues for several
stanzas more. He is somewhat like the writers of seven
or eight centuries earlier in his way of beginning a poem
and writing on and on without any very definite plan.
If some kind critic had only looked over the shoulder of
this man who was capable of composing such charming
bits of verse, we might have had from him some rarely
beautiful poems.

76. Henry Vaughan, 1621-1695. Crashaw died in
1650, the year in which Henry Vaughan, the . _

Silurist, or Welshman, wrote his Silex Scintil- tiuans.
lans, or "sparks from the flintstone." He ex- "^'''
plains the title in one of his poems : —

Lord ! thou didst put a soul here. If I must
Be broken again, for flints will give no fire
Without a steel, O let thy power cleer

The gift once more, and grind this flint to dust !

The allusion to his being "broken" is explained by
the fact that a long illness had turned his mind upon
heaven rather than upon earth. Eternity was his one
thought. His poem, The World, begins superbly : —

I saw eternity the other night,
Like a great ring of pure and endless light
All calm as it was bright.

This is a conceit, to be sure, but it is a glorious one.

128 ENGLAND'S LITERATURE [1650

Vaughan loves nature, and his Bird is as tender as it
is strong. One might fancy that it was Robert Burns
himself who speaks : ^-

Hither thou com'st. The busie wind all night
Blew through thy lodging, where thy own warm wing
Thy pillow was. Many a sullen storm,
For which coarse man seems much the fitter born,

Rain'd on thy bed

And harmless head.
And now, as fresh and cheerful as the light,
Thy little heart in early hymns doth sing
Unto that Providence whose unseen arm
Curb'd them, and cloath'd thee well and warm.

Vaughan sees what is beautiful in the world and loves
it ; but all the while he looks through it and beyond it.
Herbert, whose life and poems were his model, wrote : —

A man that looks on glass,
On it may stay his eye ;
Or if he pleaseth, through it pass.
And then the heavens espy.

So it is that Vaughan looks upon nature. Even in his
lines to a little bird, he says that though the birds of
light make a land glad, yet there are night birds with
mournful note, and ends, —

Brightness and mirth, and love and faith, all flye,
Till the day-spring breaks forth again from on high.

All that he writes comes from his own experience.
There is not a hint of glancing at his audience ; every
poem sounds as if it had been written for his own eyes
and for those of no one else. There is somewhat of the
charm of "Jerusalem the golden " in his —

My soul, there is a countrie,
Afar beyond the stars ;

1640-1661] PURITANS AND ROYALISTS 1 29

but the poem which has been the most general favor-
ite is : —

They all are gone into the world of light,

And I alone sit ling'ring here !
Their very memory is fair and bright,'

And my sad thoughts doth clear.

77. Writers of religious prose. These three men,
Herbert, Crashaw, and Vaughan, the Church of Eng-
land clergyman, the Roman Catholic priest, and the
Welsh physician, produced the best religious poetry of
England during the Commonwealth and the troublous
times preceding the same period. There were also
three prominent writers of religious prose, Thomas Ful-
ler, Jeremy Taylor, and Richard Baxter^

78. Thomas Fuller, 1608-1661. Fuller was a clergy-
man of the Church of England. He was so eloquent
that his sermons were said to have been preached to
two audiences, those within the room and those who filled
the windows and the doors. " Not only full but Fuller,"
the jesters used to say. Fuller published in The Holy
1640 his Holy and Profane State, which was ^^f"'"**
sparkling with bits of wisdom. "She com- i64o.
mandeth her husband by constantly obeying him," is
one of his epigrams. His sermons were always inter-
esting, for he was not only earnest and able, but he was
quaintness itself. His subjects are a study. One series
of sermons was on "Joseph's Party-colored Coat." One
was on "An ill match wel broken off;" and had for
its text, "Love not the world."

Fuller's best known book is not religious but his-
torical, and is the outgrowth of his experience as an
army chaplain ; for while he was with the king's soldiers,
he spent his spare time collecting bits of local informa-
tion about prominent persons. He wandered about

I30 ENGLAND'S LITERATURE [1650-1662

among the people, listening for hours at a time to the
garrulous village gossips for the sake of obtaining some
one good story, some bit of reminiscence, or an ancient
doggerel rhyme, as the case might be; and he put them
The all into his book. The Worthies of England, or

^"1^^°' Fuller's PF^^r^AzVj-, as it is commonly called. He
1662. describes one man as a "facetious dissenting

divine," another as a "pious divine;" of another he
says, "He did first creep, then run, then fly into prefer-
ment ; or rather preferment did fly upon him without
his expectation." He says of another man, "He was
a partial writer," but adds consolingly that he is "buried
near a good and true historian." He is full of quaint
antitheses and conceits; for example, he says that gar-
dening is "a tapestry in earth," and that tapestry is a
"gardening in cloth." Of the sister of Lady Jane Grey
he writes that she wept so much that "though the roses
in her cheeks looked very wan and pale, it was not for
want of watering."

79. Jeremy Taylor, 1613-1667. The second of the
religious writers, Jeremy Taylor, was the author of Holy
H017LIV- Living and Holy Dying. He was one of the
Hfiy^DyinK chaplains of King Charles, though there was
1651. some hesitation about appointing him because

of his youth. The young man was equal to the occa-
sion, however, for he begged the archbishop to pardon
that fault and promised to mend it if he lived. He
certainly deserved anything that England could offer
if the account of his early sermons is at all accurate,
which says his audience was forced to take him for
" some young angel, newly descended from the visions
of glory."

Jeremy Taylor is always fresh and bright and inter-
esting. In whatever he says, there is some turn of

i6so] PURITANS AND ROYALISTS 13I

thought, some bit of sweetness or gentleness that is un-
like the work of others. His similes especially are so
simple and natural that once heard, they cannot be for-
gotten. He says : —

I have seen young and unskilful persons sitting in a little boat,
when every little wave sporting about the sides of the vessel, and
every motion and dancing of the barge seetaed a danger, and made
them cling fast upon their fellows : and yet all the while they were
as safe as if they sat under a tree, while a gentle wind shaked the
leaves into a refreshing and cooling shade. And the unskilful, in-
experienced Christian shrieks out whenever his vessel shakes . . .
and yet, all his danger is in himself, none at all from without.

He loves nature, and he notices all the little things as
well as the great. In likening the comforting words of
a true friend to the coming of spring, he says : —

But so have I seen the sun kiss the frozen earth, which was
bound up with the images of death and the colder breath of the
north ; and then the waters break from their enclosures, and melt
with joy and run in useful channels; and' the flies do rise again
from their little graves in walls, and dance awhile in the air to tell
that there is joy within.

80. Richard Baxter, 1615-1691. The third of these
writers of religious prose was Richard Baxter. In his
youth he spent one month at court, but found a cour-
tier's life unendurable. He became a clergyman of the
Church of England and finally a thoroughgoing
Puritan. He wrote The Saint's Everlasting Everlasting
Rest ; and he might well turn his mind toward *^'' ^^^'
rest, for he lived in the midst of danger and perse-
cution. " Methinks," he wrote, "among my books I
could employ myself in sweet content, and bid the.
world farewell, and pity the rich and great that know
not this happiness ; what then will my happiness in
heaven be, where my knowledge will be perfect ? "

132 ENGLAND'S LITERATURE [1589-1639

Aside from Baxter's earnestness, his great charm lies in
his simplicity and directness. Whoever reads the book
feels as if the author were talking rather than writing,
and talking directly to him and to no one else. He is
sincere and powerful, but entirely without embellish-
ments. He said he never had "leisure for polishing or
exactness or any ornament." He thought of nothing
but the good that he might do. When some one praised
his books, he replied, " I was but a pen, and what praise
is due to a pen ? "

81. The " Cavalier Poets." Entirely different from
these earnest, serious preachers was a merry little
group of "Cavalier Poets," as they have been called, all,
save one, closely connected with the court of Charles I.
In this group were four who were superior to the others
of their class. They were Thomas Carew, Sir John Suck-
ling, Richard Lovelace, and Robert Herrick.

82. Thomas Carew, 1589-1639. Carew was sewer,
or cup-bearer to King Charles, and was a favorite at
the court. He would probably have won just as much
praise from the gay company around him if he had
written as carelessly as some of them, but that was not
Carew's way. His poems are not deep and powerful,
but they are never careless. He begins with a thought,
perhaps a very simple one, but he is as careful to express
it smoothly and gracefully as if it were a whole epic. His
Ask Me lyrics are his best known work, especially the
no More. song, Ask Me no More. Quite different are
they in tone from those of the "complaining" lovers of
Tottel's Miscellany. Carew ventures to write The Lady
to Her Inconstant Sei'vant ; but in Surrey's poems the
" servant " never dreamed of being inconstant. Carew
knows how to appreciate beauty, but again and again
he turns from a pretty face to the qualities of heart and

1608-1642] PURITANS AND ROYALISTS 133

mind. Perhaps as well known as Ask Me no More are
the first two stanzas of Disdain Returned: —

He that loves a rosy cheek,

Or a coral lip, admires,
Or from star-like eyes doth seek

Fuel to maintain his fires.
As old Time makes these decay,
So his flames must waste away.

But a smooth and steadfast mind,

Gentle thoughts and calm desires,

Hearts, with equal love combined.
Kindle never-dying fires ;

Where these are not, I despise

Lovely cheeks or lips or eyes.

83. Sir John Suckling, 1608-1642. Sir John Suck-
ling used to laugh at Carew for being so careful to make
his poems smooth and finished ; for he himself tossed off
a rhyme as lightly as one blows away a bit of thistle-
down. Somehow in reading the best of Suckling's
poems, we can never get away from the feeling that Sir
John himself is reciting them to us, and we fancy the
mischievous sparkle of his eyes as he queries, —

Why so pale and wan, fond lover ?

Prithee, why so pale ?
Will, when looking well can't move her,

Looking ill prevail ?

Prithee, why so pale ?

Suckling wrote a gay little letter in rhyme to " Dick,"
who may have been Richard Lovelace, telling him about
a wedding that he had attended. It is all merry and
bright, but when he comes to talk about the bride, he
is fairly bubbling over with fun.

Her feet beneath her petticoat.
Like little mice stole in and out,
As if they fear'd the light :

134 ENGLAND'S LITERATURE [1618-1674

But O she dances such a way !
No sun upon an Easter-day
Is half so fine a sight.

This gay young courtier,. rich, handsome, and talented,
met with a sad fate. He spent four years wandering
over the Continent, fought for the king of Sweden, re-
turned to London, left the court for a time, but hastened
back to aid the Royalist party. After the final victory
of the Puritans, he fled from England. In Spain he en-
dured the most fearful tortures of the Inquisition, but
finally escaped. All this was before he was thirty-four,
for in that year of his age he died.

84. Richard Lovelace, 1618-1658. Richard Love-
lace had a life equally full of changes. He, like Suck-
ling, was a court favorite. He too was rich, handsome,
and talented ; and he too stood firmly by the man
whom he believed to be his rightful sovereign. For the

king's sake he bore imprisonment, and it
To Amoa. ° . ^ y, , ,

was m prison that he wrote To Althea, with

its famous lines, —

Stone walls do not a prison make,
Nor iron bars a cage.

There are two more lines of Lovelace's that are as
familiar as any proverb, —

I could not love thee, dear, so much,
Loved I not honour more.

The woman whom he loved believed him to be dead,
and married another man. He was in despair, and he
cared little what became of him. He threw away his
fortune, and finally died in the depths of poverty.

85. Robert Herriok, 1594-1674. The fourth of
these Cavalier poets, and by far the greatest, was Robert
Herrick. His life was quite different from that of the

1648] PURITANS AND ROYALISTS 1 35

Others in that he knew nothing of days at court. He
had some fourteen years of quiet at Cambridge, and
then twenty years of greater quiet as minister of a little
country parish. He wrote more lyrics than any of his
fellow poets, and a large number of them have that un-
explainable quality which makes us say, "That is just
the thought for the place."

" Robin " was one of the few men who are every inch
alive. He loved the old Greek dances, but he could
find amusement in watching his parishioners circle
around an English Maypole. He wrote a Thanksgiving
for his little house, his watercress, his fire, his bread, and
his " beloved beet " as simply and as sincerely as a child.
Herrick enjoyed everything.

Where care
None is, slight things do lightly please,

he says gayly. He calls upon music, —

Fall on me like a silent dew,

Or like those maiden showers,
Which, by the peep of day, do strew

A baptism o'er the flowers ;

but he is equally ready to chat in rhyme about his maid
" Prewdence," his hen, his cat, his goose, or his dog
Tracy.

Herrick wrote two collections of poems, The Hes-
perides and Noble Numbers. The Hesperides is all aglow
with sunshine ; it is full of "brooks, of bios- TheHes-
soms, birds, and bowers," as he says in his ar- pmWos.

1648.

gument. Chaucer writes of the springtime
and of the longing that it gives folk to go on pilgrimage,
but there is even more of the springtime eagerness to
go somewhere under the open sky in Herrick's Corinna 's
Going a-Maying.

136 ENGLAND'S LITERATURE [1648

Get up, get up for shame ! the blooming morn
Upon her wings presents the god unshorn.
See how Aurora throws her fair
Fresh-quilted colours through the air :
Get up, sweet slug-a-bed, and see
The dew bespangling herb and tree.

To " Julia", he writes a crisp little Night Piece, —

Her eyes the glow-worm lend thee,
The shooting stars attend thee ;

And the elves also,

Whose little eyes glow
Like the sparks of fire, befriend thee.

He writes to "Corinna" or " Perilla " or "Anthea,"
but not with the agonies of Elizabethan lovers ; for he
seems to have no more choice among them than that one
name will suit his line and another will not.

His religious poems, Noble Numbers, are somewhat
different from those of the other writers of religious
NoWe verse. He is no hermit, no recluse. " God is

Numbers, over the world, then let us enjoy it," is the
spirit of his verse. He does not long for the
mystic joys of martyrdom ; he does not often beg for
more blessings either spiritual or temporal ; but he is
grateful for what he has, and does not doubt that good-
ness and mercy will follow him all the days of his life.
Even in his Litany there are no agonies of doubt and
uncertainty. He prays for comfort, and he expects to

receive it.

In the hour of my distress.
When temptations me oppress,
And when I my sins confess,
Sweet Spirit, comfort me.

When the Judgment is reveal'd,
And that open'd which was seal'd ;
When to Thee I have appeal'd,
Sweet Spirit, comfort me.

l653] PURITANS AND ROYALISTS 137

There is an unmistakable tone of sincerity in the follow-
ing lines, one of the first poems in Noble Nimibers : —

Forgive me, God, and blot each line
Out of my boolc tliat is not Thine.
But if, 'mongst all, thou find'st here one
Worthy thy benediction ;
That one of all the rest shall be
The glory of my work and me.

One little corner of his writings is so unlike the rest
of his poems that it might pass for the work of another
author ; but, save for that, Herrick is the most delight-
ful, frank, refreshing man that one can imagine, fairly-
running over with the joy of living and with the cheer-
fulness that comes from finding great pleasure in small
pleasures.
,^--«&."Izaak "Walton, 1593-1683. One author who will
not fall into line with the others of his day is Izaak
Walton. The confusion and troubles of the Civil War
did not suit him, and he slipped away to the country to
find peace and quiet. He lived to be ninety years old,
but not in loneliness, for his friends were always ready
to go to see this man with his brightness, intelligence,
and gentle, whimsical humor. He was not without oc-
cupation in his country home, for there he wrote the
lives of several famous men of his time, Donne and Her-
bert among them. These Lives are so tender and sin-
cere that they seem to be simple talks about friends who
were dear to him, an ideal mode of writing biographies.
Best of his works, however, is The Compleat <^y^^f^,^.
Angler. In one way it is a wise little treatise pieat An-
on the different kinds of fish and the best ^"'
modes of catching them ; but its charm lies not in infor-
mation about hooks and bait but in Walton's genuine
love of the country and in the quaintness of his thoughts.

138 ENGLAND'S LITERATURE [1660

He treats fishing with gravity, whether mock or real it
is sometimes hard to tell. " Angling is somewhat like
poetry," he declares learnedly, " men are to be born so ; "
and he gives as the epitaph of a friend, " An excellent
angler, and now with God." " Look about you," he
says, " and see how pleasantly that meadow looks ; nay,
and the earth smells so sweetly too : Come let me tell
you what holy Mr. Herbert says of such days and flow-
ers as these, and then we will thank God that we enjoy
them," — ^and he recites, —

Sweet day, so cool, so calm, so bright.

It is no marvel that his old friends never forsook the man
who could chat so simply and delightfully. He is espe-
cially charming when he talks of music, whether it be
the " smooth song which was made by Kit Marlow " or
the inimitable melody of the nightingale. Of the latter
he writes : —

But the nightingale, another of my airy creatures, breathes such
sweet loud music out of her little instrumental throat, that it might
make mankind to think miracles were not ceased. He that at mid-
night, when the very labourer sleeps securely, should hear, as I have
very often, the clear airs, the sweet descants, the natural rising and
falling, the doubling and redoubling of her voice, might well be
lifted above earth, and say, " Lord, what musick hast thou provided
for the Saints in Heaven, when thou affordest bad men such mu-
sick on Earth ! "

87. The Restoration, 1660. The year 1660 found Eng-
land tired of Puritan control. Across the Channel was the
son of Charles I., and he was invited to return and rule
the land, as has been said. Unfortunately, he could not
even rule himself, and his idea of being king was simply
to have plenty of money and amusement. At first the
nation could hardly help sympathizing with him and his
merry Cavalier friends ; for the last years had been dull

i662] PURITANS AND ROYALISTS 139

and gloomy. After the supreme power fell into the
hands of the Puritans, they suppressed as far as possible
all public amusements, and they made no distinction be-
tween the brutalities of bull-baiting and the simple dan-
cing around a Maypole which had so entertained Herrick.
Much of this unreasonable strictness was due to men who
were not really Puritans at heart, but who had joined the
ruling party for the sake of power ; and these men went
beyond the others in severity in order to make themselves
appear zealous converts.

88. Samuel Butler, 1612-1680. It is possible that
some of these turncoats had a sly relish of a book which
came out in 1662 and which threw the merry monarch
and his court into gales of laughter. Its name Huanras.
was Hudibras, and it was written by one Sam- ^®®^'
uel Butler. Among the few facts known of his life is
that he was for some time a member of the household of
a Puritan colonel. The gentleman never guessed that a
caricature of himself was to be the laughing-stock of the
son of the king whom his party had beheaded. This Puri-
tan becomes in Butler's hands a knight who sets out with
his squire, quite in the mediaeval fashion, to range the
country through and correct abuses. Thus is Sir Hudi-
bras described : —

For he was of that stubborn crew

Of errant saints, whom all men grant

To be the true Church Militant :

Such as do build their faith upon

The holy text of pike and gun ;

Decide all controversies by

Infallible artillery,

And prove their doctrine orthodox,

By Apostolic blows and knocks.

There was much comfort in this satire for the men who
had been beaten by the " infallible artillery."

I40 ENGLAND'S LITERATURE [1660-1667

Nobody cares much to-day which side Butler made
fun of. We value Hudibras for its amusing similes, its
real wisdom, and its witty couplets, such as : —

The sun had long since in the lap
Of Thetis taken out his nap,
And, like a lobster boiled, the morn
From black to red began to turn.

Great conquerors greater glory gain
By foes in triumph led than slain.

He that complies against his will
Is of his own opinion still.

Butler is said to have expected a reward from the king
and to have been disappointed. This was quite in the
style of Charles II, whose gratitude was reserved for
the favors which he hoped to receive.

89. Milton's later years. The only gratitude that
can be felt toward Charles himself is for his negative
goodness. in not persecuting to the death John Milton,
a man who had been so prominent during the Common-
wealth and who had written the Defence of the English
People. The poet was left to spend his later years in
peace ; and then it was that his mind turned toward a
plan of his youth that had long been laid aside for the'
time of quiet that he hoped would come. He wished to
write some long poem on a subject that was worthy of
his ability. Just what that subject should be was not
easy to decide. He thought of taking King Arthur for
a hero and writing a British epic ; but his plan broadened
until he determined to write —

Of man's first disobedience, and the fruit
Of that forbidden tree, whose mortal taste
Brought death into the world, and all our woe,
With loss of Eden, till one greater Man
Restore us, and regain the blissful seat.

l667] PURITANS AND ROYALISTS 141

These are the first lines of Paradise Lost. The poem
is based upon Rev. xii. 7-9, the third chapter of Genesis,
and other passages in the Bible. Satan rebels pajaaise
against God and with his angels is cast out of i-o^t. I667.
heaven into the flames of hell. While they lie in chains,
the world is created, and man is given the Garden of
Eden for his home. Satan rouses his angels to revenge
themselves by tempting man. He himself makes his
way to Eden and persuades Eve to disobey the command
of God. Adam joins her in the sin, and both are driven
from Eden ; but a vision is granted to show that man
shall one day find redemption.

To treat so lofty a theme in such manner that the
treatment shall not by contrast appear trivial and un-
worthy is a rare triumph. Milton has succeeded so far
as success is possible. His imagination does not fail ;
his poetic expression is ever suited to his thought ; the
mere sound of his phrases is a wonderful organ music,
for Milton is master of all the beauties and intricacies
of poetic harmony. Short extracts give no idea of the
majesty of the poem, though there are scores of lines
that have become familiar in every-day speech.

The mind is its own place, and in itself
Can make a heaven of hell, a hell of heaven.

Not to know me argues yourselves unknown.

The world was all before them, where to choose.

Milton ever suits the word to the thought. To express
harshness of sound he says : — •

On a sudden open fly.
With impetuous recoil and jarring sound,
Th' infernal doors, and on their hinges grate
Harsh thunder.

142 ENGLAND'S LITERATURE [1671

There is the very hush of evening in the lines, —

Then silent night
With this her solemn bird and this fair moon.

Here is gliding smoothness : —

Liquid lapse of murmuring streams.

Milton had thought that the vision shown to Adam
of the final redemption of man was all-sufficient ; but a
Quaker friend who had read the manuscript said to him,
"Thou hast said much of Paradise lost, but what hast
Paradise thou to say to Paradise found ? " This simple
Regained, question inspired Milton's second long poem.
Paradise Regained, which he — and he only —
preferred to the first. After this he wrote Samson
Samson Agonistes, a tragedy which conforms in every
Agonistes. way to the rules of the Greek drama. These

1671

poems were dictated in his blindness. One
sonnet, written during those years of darkness, explains
the power by which he endured so crushing a misfor-
tune : —

When I consider how my light is spent

Ere half my days, in this dark world and wide,
And that one talent which is death to hide,
Lodg'd with me useless, though my soul more bent

To serve therewith my Maker, and present
My true account, lest he returning chide ;
" Doth God exact day-labour, light denied ? "
I fondly ask : but Patience, to prevent

That murmur, soon replies, " God doth not need
Either man's work, or his own gifts ; who best
Bear his mild yoke, they serve him best : his state

Is kingly; thousands at his bidding speed,

And post o'er land and ocean without rest ;
They also serve who only stand and wait."

A child may find pleasure in the musical sound of Para-
dise Lost, but the fullest enjoyment and appreciation of

1628-1688] PURITANS AND ROYALISTS

143

the poem require familiarity not only with the Bible, but
with classical literature. Four years after Milton's death
a book came out which to children is a fascinating story
and to the learned a marvellously perfect allegory, while
to thousands of humble seekers after the way in which
they should walk it has been a guide and an inspiration.
This book is The Pilgrim s Progress.

90. John Bunyan, 1628-1688. It was written by
John Bunyan, a man whose life was in many ways the
opposite of Milton's, for
he was poor and almost
without even the simplest
beginnings of education.
There is small reason for
thinking that Milton ever
looked upon himself as in
any respect a wrongdoer ;
but the rude village lad
suffered for two years ago-
nies of remorse for what he
feared was the unpardona-
ble wickedness of his boy-
hood. At last the light
burst upon him. He believed that the sins of his youth
had found forgiveness, and he had but one desire, to
preach forgiveness to every one whom he could reach.
His trade was that of a tinker, and as he went from
place to place, he preached wherever any one would
listen. There was little trouble in gathering audiences
together ; for the untaught villager began to show a
vividness of speech, a rude eloquence, which held his
hearers as if they were spellbound.

Those were not days when a man might preach what
he would. Charles II looked upon all dissenters as

JOHN BUNYAN
1628-1688

144 ENGLAND'S LITERATURE [1678

opposed to him. Bunyan had become a dissenter, and
Perse- it did not occur to him to conceal his faith or

cuuon. even to preach with less boldness. He was
promptly arrested and thrown into jail. " Will you pro-
mise to do no more preaching if you are set free .' " the
king's ofificers asked. Outside the jail were his wife and
two little daughters, one of them especially dear to him
because of her blindness ; but Bunyan refused to make
the promise. For twelve years he was a prisoner in
Bedford Jail, doing whatever work he could get to sup-
port his family. At the end of that time he was free
for a' while, then came a second imprisonment. It was
TiiePii- within the walls of the jail that he wrote The
P'lm's Pilgrim's Progress, the most perfect allegory
1678. ever produced. In this story, or " dream,"

Christian — no glittering knight, but a plain, every-day
citizen — flees from the City of Destruction in quest
of the Celestial City. He has many troubles ; he falls
into the Slough of Despond ; he has to go by roaring
lions ; he encounters Apollyon ; he passes through
the Valley of Humiliation ; he is beaten and perse-
cuted at Vanity Fair ; he wanders out of the way and
falls into the hands of Giant Despair of Doubting Cas-
tle ; and he goes tremblingly through the Valley of
the Shadow of Death. But his way is not all gloom.
He finds friendly entertainment and counsel at the
House of the Interpreter ; at the house built by the
Lord of the Hill he rests " in a large upper chamber,
whose window opened toward the sunrisirfg, the name
of the chamber was Peace ; " he is shown far away the
beauties of the Delectable Mountains, which are in
Emmanuel's Land ; the key of promise opens the way
out of Doubting Castle. At last he and his friends
stand beside the River of Death, which alone lies be-

1678] PURITANS AND ROYALISTS 145

tween them and the Celestial City ; and when they have
passed through the flood, behold two Shining Ones are
beside them to help them up the hill to the City whose
foundation is higher than the clouds. A heavenly host
comes out to meet them and gives them ten thousand
welcomes. " Call at the gate," bid the Shining Ones,
and the King commands that it shall be opened unto
them. They go in, and all the bells of the City ring for
j oy. The dreamer looked in after them and he says, " The
City shone like the sun ; the streets also were paved
with gold, and in them walked many men with crowns
on their heads, palms in their hands, and golden harps
to sing praises withal. . . . And after that they shut up
the gates ; which, when I had seen, I wished myself
among them."

The Pilgrim's Progress is a wonderful book. It is
the result of a thorough knowledge of the Bible, sincere
religious feeling, and a glowing imagination that made
real and tangible whatever thought it touched. No
other writer could safely venture to name his characters
Faithful or Pliable or Ignorance ; but Bunyan makes
these abstractions real. Faithful has other qualities
than faithfulness, and he talks with Christian not like a
shadow, but like a real human being. When Christian
fights with ApoUyon, there is no strife of phantoms, but
a veritable contest, wherein Apollyon gave him a fall
and would have pressed him to death had not Christian
by good fortune succeeded in catching his sword and
giving him a deadly thrust. The English of the book
is pure and strong ; but its great power lies neither in
its English nor in the perfection of the allegory, but in
the fact that in picturing his own religious struggles,
Bunyan pictured those of many another man. " Look
in thy heart and write," said Philip Sidney. One hun-

146 ENGLAND'S LITERATURE [1660

dred years later, the unlettered tinker in Bedford Jail
obeyed unconsciously the behest of the heir of the rich-
est culture that England could give, and sent forth a
masterpiece. Bunyan wrote several other books, all of
value, but none equal to The Pilgrim's Progress. After
his release from prison and to the end of his life he
devoted himself to the preaching that he loved.

91. John Dryden, 1631-1700. Neither Bunyan nor
Milton wrote with any thought of pleasing the age in
which he lived. Bunyan says explicitly, —

Nor did I undertake
Thereby to please my neighbor; no, not L
I did it mine own self to gratify.

Milton surely had no preference of his own age in mind
when he spent his last years ,on a work which he had
little reason to think would find many readers among
his contemporaries. The most important writer of the
closing years of the century was their opposite in this
respect. His name was John Dryden. He was born
in 163 1, of a Puritan family. Up to 1660, he wrote
nothing that attracted any attention except a eulogy of
Cromwell, but in that year he produced a glowing wel-
come to Charles H, wherein he declared that —

For his long absence Church and State did groan.

We owe much to Dryden, but his name would be even
greater if he had not deliberately made up his mind to
please the age in which he lived, and which, unfortunately,
was an age of neither good morals nor good manners.
The theatres, closed in 1642, were now flung open, and
The drama there was a call for plays. Many were written,

of the but they were of quite different character from

Restoration. ,, 1 r .1 • ^ .1 ,,,,„.,

the plays of the sixteenth century. The Shake-
spearian inspiration had vanished, and the French de-

i667]

PURITANS AND ROYALISTS

147

sire for polish and carefulness of form now held sway.
If the hero of a play was in circumstances that would
naturally arouse deep feeling, the writer was expected
to polish every phrase,
but whether the speech
sounded sincere was a
matter of small moment.
Indeed, it was regarded as
in much better taste to re-
press all genuine emotion.
This was enough to make
a play cold and unreal ; but
another popular demand
was still more destructive
of a really great dramatic
period, namely, that the
plays should imitate the
indecent manners of the
court. A successful play,
then, was required to be
polished in form, gay and
witty, but cold, and often vulgar and profane. Dryden
yielded to this demand, especially in his comedies, but
he was otherwise honest in his work, for he wrote care-
fully and thoughtfully. No other dramatic poet of the
age was his equal ; and, indeed, about whatever he wrote
there was a certain strength and power that won atten-
tion and respect.

Dryden was careful to choose popular themes. He
wrote a poem on the events of the year 1667, namely,

the Great Fire of London, the Plague, and the „

. , . Dryflen's

War with the Dutch ; not poetical subjects by choice ot

any means, but subjects in which every one was . ™*''"'*'-

interested and which afforded good opportunity for lines

JOHN DRYDEN
163I-I70O

148 ENGLAND'S LITERATURE [1681-1682

that would win applause, such as the following, which
says that the English seaman —

Adds his heart to every gun he fires.

Life began to move easily and pleasantly with Dry-
den. He was favored by the king; his company was
sought by men of rank, he was comfortable financially.
His next step was to write satire. The country was
full of plot and intrigue. Whoever wished to stand well
with the king and his party must do his best to support
them. Then it was that Dryden wrote his most famous
Ahsaiom satire, Absalom and Achitophel. In this there
to'lei"'^' ^^ ^ VvciA of character-reading that is quite dif-

1681. ferent from Shakespeare's. Shakespeare was
interested in all kinds of people and understood them
because he sympathized with them. Dryden's aim in
his satire was not to understand and sympathize, but to

•pick out the weakest points of his victims, to sting and
to hurt. One man he described as —

Stiff in opinions, always in the wrong,

Was everything by starts and nothing long,

But in the course of one revolving moon ^

Was chymist, fiddler, statesman, and buffoon.

Dryden was ready to undertake any kind of literary

work that was demanded by the times, and in the midst

Heiigio of his satires he wrote the Relino Laid, or
Laid. . . & <

1682. " religion of a layman," and here he deserves

honest praise. This poem is an argument in favor
of the Church of England. To express difficult argu-
ments in verse is not easy, but Dryden has suc-
ceeded. His poem is clear and natural in its wording,
smooth, dignified, and easy to read.

Shall I speak plain, and in a nation free
Assume an honest layman's liberty ?

1667-1697] PURITANS AND ROYALISTS 149

I think, according to my little skill,
To my own mother Church submitting still.
That many have been saved, and many may.
Who never heard this question brought in play.
The unlettered Christian, who believes in gross.
Plods on to Heaven and ne'er is at a loss ;
For the strait gate would be made straiter yet,
Were none admitted there but men of wit.

Only a few years later Dryden became a member
of the Roman Catholic Church and wrote The Hind
and the Panther, wherein the milk-white hind The hiea
represents the Church of Rome ; the panther, ^ther.
beautiful but spotted, the church he had aban- 1687.
doned. Dryden could write witty lines, but his sense
of humor was not strong enough to save him from the
absurdity of setting two of the beasts of the field into
theological argument. Still, here were the same excel-
lencies as in the Religio Laid, the same grace and
vigor. The poem deserved applause and won it.

Dryden translated the ^neid and other Translation

works. He wrote two beautiful odes for St. Aeneia,

Cecilia's Day. In the second, known as Alex- if^^;

, -' AIezander'3

ander s Feast, are many lines of the sort that Feast, 1697.

stay in the memory, such as : — •

None but the brave deserves the fair.

Sweet is pleasure after pain. „. „ ^.,, ,

^ '^ St. Cecilia's

War, he sung, is toil and trouble ; Day. 1687.

Honour but an empty bubble.

Dryden's prose is of great value because of its clear,
bracing style and general excellence. He Essay of
wrote much criticism, not only in his Essay pj™***"
of Dramatic Poesy, but in the prefaces to his i667.
various plays ; and criticism, aside from stray paragraphs,
was something new in English literature. His sen-

ISO ENGLAND'S LITERATURE [1700

tences have not the majestic sonorousness of Milton's,
but every phrase has its work to do and is placed where
it can do that work best. In the hands of Dryden prose
became. a keen-edged instrument.

The year 1700 is marked by the death of this poet,
critic, dramatist, and satirist. The seventeenth century
had seen the noblest imaginative work of Shakespeare ;
the thoughtfulness for form of Ben Jonson ; the accu-
rate reasoning of Bacon ; the gay trivialities, sometimes
touched with seriousness, of the Cavalier poets ; the
tender grace of Walton ; the earnestness, aspiration, and
devotion of the writers of religious prose and poetry ;
the mcLJesty ot Paradise Lost; the spiritual symbolism
of Tke Pilgrim s Progress ; and now, last of all, had come
John Dryden, who stood in the story of the century ^or
the development of critical judgment. The glow of the
Elizabethan inspiration had long since passed away.
Looking forward to the eighteenth century, one could
not hope to find a great imaginative poetry or a
marked originality, but one could justly expect an unus-
ual development of literary moderation and correctness.

Century XVII

PURITANS AND ROYALISTS
First Quarter of the Century.

Francis Bacon. Beaumont and Fletcher.

Shakespeare's later work. John Donne.

Ben Jonson.

Literature of the Conflict and the Commonwealth.

John Milton, earlier poems and pamphlets.
Izaak Walton.
Religious poets :

George Herbert. Henry Vaughan.

Richard Crashaw.

1 7th Cent.] PURITANS AND ROYALISTS 151

Religious prose writers :

Thomas Fuller. Richard Baxter.

Jeremy Taylor.
Cavalier poets : •

Thomas Carew. Richard Lovelace.

Sir John Suckling. Robert Herrick.

Literature of the Restoration.

Samuel Butler. John Bunyan.

Milton, later poems. .John Dryden.

SUMMARY

In the early years of the seventeenth century Shakespeare
produced his finest plays, the deeper comedies and the trage-
dies. His sonnets were published. Raleigh typifies the Eliza-
bethan of universal ability. Bacon wrote his Instauratio
Magna. In 161 1, the " King James version " of the Bible was
produced.

Next to Shakespeare in greatness, but strongly contrasted
with him in method of work and cast of mind, was Ben Jon-
son. His most interesting work is his masques. The ro-
mantic plays most like Shakespeare's were those of Beaumont
and Fletcher. In 1623, thirty-six of Shakespeare's plays
were collected and printed.

The drama gradually became less excellent ; partly be-
cause it ceased to reflect life, partly because Puritan influence
resulted in abandoning the theatre to the careless and im-
moral, In 1642 the theatres were closed.

The writers of the Commonwealth were all influenced to
some extent by the " conceits " of Donne. Their writings
were, first, meditative and critical, represented by the earlier
work of Milton, many of his shorter poems and his pamphlets ;
second, earnestly religious, represented by the work of Her-
bert, Crashaw, and Vaughan in poetry and that of Fuller,
Taylor, and Baxter in prose ; third, in the lighter, merrier
strain of the Cavalier poets, Carew, Suckling, Lovelace, and

152 ENGLAND'S LITERATURE [17th Cent.

Herrick who also wrote religious poems. Izaak Walton be-
longs to none of these classes. The Compleat Angler is his
best work.

After the Restoration of 1660 Butler caricatured the Puri-
tans in Hudibras ; Milton produced his greatest work, Para-
dise Lost ; and Bunyan wrote the best of allegories, The Pil-
grim's Progress.

The greatest writer of the last years of the century was
Dryden. The drama revived, but valued polish rather than
sincerity, and demanded indecency and the repression of emo-
tion. Dryden lowered his work by yielding to the taste of
the times. He wrote plays, poems on popular subjects, satire,
religious argument in verse, and translated the ^neid and
other works. Literary moderation and correctness marked
the close of the century.

CHAPTER VII

OBNTUHY XVIII

THE CENTURY OF PROSE

92. Coffee drinking. Coffee drinking had a great
deal to do with the development of literature in the
eighteenth century. Some twenty years after Jonson's
death, coffee became the fashionable drink, and coffee
houses were opened by the hundred. These houses took
the place of informal, inexpensive clubs ; and gradually
one became noted as headquarters for political discus-
sion, another for social gossip, another for ship news,
etc. "Will's" became the special meeting-place for lit-
erary men. Dryden was their chief, and around him
circled several of those writers who. were to do the best
literary work of the early part of the eighteenth century.

Not long before Dryden's death, a boy of twelve
slipped into the edge of the circle and stood gazing at
the great man with dark, earnest eyes ; for Dryden was
the poet -whom he most reverenced and admired. The
boy was very small, he was badly deformed, and so
helpless that he could not stand without supports ; but
his mind was wonderfully active, and he hoped to be
able some day to write poems that would make him
famous. He had already made some attempts that
were amazingly good for a child.

93. Alexander Pope, 1688-1744. This boy's name
was Alexander Pope. His father was a retired mer-
chant who was exceedingly proud of his precocious son,

154 ENGLAND'S LITERATURE [1709

while his mother looked upon him as the most marvel-
lous boy that ever lived. The family were Roman Cath-
olics, and therefore he would not have been allowed to
enter either of the universities even if he had been
well ; but he did a vast amount of reading and study-
ing, though with very little formal instruction. Before

ALEXANDER POPE
168S-I744

he was twenty-one he had published several poems, he
was well known among the literary men of the time,
and associated with fhem upon equal terms. A drama-
tist four times his age had' asked him for suggestions
and criticisms. One suggestion which had come to him
from William Walsh, a critic of the day, became the
motto of his literary life. " Be correct," said Walsh,

171 1] THE CENTURY OF PROSE 1 55

"we have had great poets, but never one great poet
that was correct." Pope set to work to be correct. He
wrote and rewrote and polished and condensed and re-
fined. In 171 1, when he was only twenty- uggj-jj,
three, his Essay on Criticism came out. There criticism,
is no originality in the poem ; it is simply a
combination of what Latin and French critics had said ;
but the thoughts are so clearly and concisely put that
they seem new and fresh. For instance, there is no
startling novelty in the statement that it is not well to
use either obsolete words or recently formed, unauthor-
ized words ; but when Pope writes that — .

In words, as fashions, the same rule will hold ;
Alike fantastic, if too hew or old :
Be not the first by whom the new are try'd,
Nor yet the last to lay the old aside,

we have a feeling that this is a most excellent way to
express the thought. This feeling was what gave espe-
cial pleasure to the men of Queen Anne's day. Each
separate thought of Pope's stands out like a crystal, and
this clean-cut definiteness gave .people the enjoyment
that Shakespeare's perfect reading of mfen and his glow-
ing imagination gave the people, of his time.

Pope's next subject was even better suited to his tal-
ents. With the somewhat rough and ready manners of
the age, a certain man of fashion had cut from the head
of a maid of honor one of the —

Two locks which graceful hung behind
In equal curls, and well conspired to deck
With shining ringlets the smooth iv'ry neck.

The young lady was angry, and her family were angry.
It was suggested to Pope that a mock-heroic poem about
the act might help to pass the matter off with a laugh.
This was the origin of The Rape of the Lock, one of

IS6 ENGLAND'S LITERATURE [1714-1725

the gayest, most sparkling little trifles ever written.
TheHareof P°ps begins with a parody on the usual way of
thoLooi:. commencing an epic, and this comical air of
importance is carried through the whole poem.
The coming of the maid to adorn the heroine is ex-
pressed : —

Th' inferior priestess, at her altar's side,
Trembling begins the sacred rites of pride.

The adventurous baron resolves to gain the curl, and
builds to I.ovean altar consisting of billets-doux, a glove,
and gilt-edged French romances. The " fays, fairies,
genii, elves, and demons " are propitious, and he sets
out. He arms himself with a " little engine," a " two-
edged weapon," that is, a pair of scissors.

The meeting points the sacred hair dissever
From the fair head, for ever and for ever!

A mimic war ensues and the lock vanishes. It takes its
place among the stars and " adds new glory to the shin-
ing sphere."

Pope's next work was not a mock epic but a real epic,
Pope's fo'' he translated the Iliad ; later, and with con-

transiation siderable assistance, the Odyssey, though his
mad, work can hardly be called a translation, for he

1715-1720; jj^ew very little Greek. It is rather a versifica-
oz tue •'

oayssey, tion of the rendering of others. It is smooth,
1723-1725. ^jg^^^ J^JJ(J gg^gy Yo read, but has not a touch of the
old Greek simplicity or fire. Homer's Iliad comes from
the wind-swept plain of Troy and the shore of the thun-
dering sea ; Pope's Iliad from a nicely trimmed garden.
Nevertheless, gardens are not to be despised, and Pope's
verses have the rare charm of a most exquisite finish
and perfectness. Homer wrote, "The stars about the
bright moon shine clear to see." Pope puts it : —

1728] THE CENTURY OF PROSE 157

The moon, refulgent lamp of night !
O'er heaven's clear azure spreads her sacred light.

Around her throne the vivid planets roll,
And stars unnumber'd gild the glowing pole.

It is no wonder that Richard Bentley, one of the greatest
scholars of the day, said, " It is a pretty poem, Mr. Pope,
but you must not call it Homer."

With the publication of these two works came not only
fame but money. Pope made himself a home at Twick-
enham on the Thames, and with his widowed mother
he spent there the rest of his life. He knew " everybody
who was worth knowing," he was famous, and he was
rich ; on the other hand, he was such a sufferer that he
spoke of his life as "one long disease." To his mother
he was tenderness itself, and he was capable of a warm
friendship, though one could not always count on its con-
tinuance ; but to his enemies he was indeed just what
they nicknamed him, " the wicked wasp of Twickenham,"
for he never hesitated to revenge in the most venomous
verses any real or fancied slight. Even in The Rape of
the Lock there are many scathing lines. At the sever-
ing of the curl the heroine cries out, and Pope says with
an undertone of bitterness, —

Not louder shrieks to pitying heav'n are cast.
When husbands or when lap-dogs breathe their last ;
Or when rich China vessels fall'n from high,
Inglitt'ring dust, and pointed fragments lie !

In 1728 Pope published a most malicious satire, The
Dunciad, wherein every one who was so unfortunate as
wittingly or unwittingly to have offended him me Dun-
was scourged most unmercifully, for he had '''^*' '^'''^^■
forgotten his own words, " At every trifle scorn'to take
offence." Pope was the first literary man of his age, and

158 ENGLAND'S LITERATURE [i732-i734

he descended from his throne to chastise with his own
hand every one who had not shown him due reverence.
Men to whom he owed profound gratitude, but who had
offended him in some trifle, and men who had been dead
for years were attacked with equal spitefulness. Never
was so great ability applied to so contemptible an object.

94. Pope's Later Years. The best work of Pope's
Essav later years was the Essay on Man, one of his
on Man. Moral Essavs. Didactic poetry can never have

1732-1734

the winsome charm of imaginative ; but what-
ever power to please the former may possess is shown
in these Essays. There are scores of single lines and
couplets that are as familiar as proverbs.

■ Worth makes the man, and want of it the fellow.

An honest man 's the noblest work of God.

Order is heaven's first law.

Man never is, but always to be blest.

And spite of pride, in erring reason's spite,

One truth is clear, Whatever is, is right.

Pope has given us the perfection of form and finish ;
but when we ask for " thoughts that breathe and words
that burn," for thoughts so far beyond our own that
we must bow in homage, they are lacking. Lofty imagi-
nation, sympathetic insight, humor, originality, depth, we
do not find. Pope is great-, but he is not of the greatest.

95. Addison and Steele. When Pope was a boy of
twelve, there was living in a London garret a man just
twice his age who was destined to become the best prose
writer of Queen Anne's reign. He was dignified, re-
served with strangers, and a little shy ; but his ability
to write had been so apparent that some time before this
the Whigs had given him a pension of £,100. This was
not an infrequent act when the party in power wished to
secure the adherence of a talented young writer. The

1704] THE CENTURY OF PROSE 159

king soon died, however, the Whigs were " out," and the
young man, Joseph Addison, was left without jjsgpj,
resources. While he was living quietly in Lon- AMison.
don, news came of the victory of Blenheim, and
for perhaps the only time in the history of England, the

JOSEPH ADDISON
1672-1719

government set out in quest of a poet. A friend recom-
mended Addison, and he wrote a poem on the battle.
One passage compared Marlborough to an angel who —

Pleased the Almighty's orders to perform,
Rides on the whirlwind and directs the storm.

These lines carried their author far on the road to suc-
cess. One office after another was given to him, and

l6o ENGLAND'S LITERATURE [1709

the more he was known, the better he was liked. It was
not easy to know him, for although with his friends he
was the best companion in the world, the entrance of a
stranger would silence him in a moment. Nevertheless,
his kindness of heart could not be hidden, and this politi-
cian who could not make a speech was so warmly loved
in Ireland, where he held a government position, that
Dean Swift wrote him that the Tories and the Whigs
were contending which should speak best of him.

While he was in Ireland a letter came to him from an
old school friend, Richard Steele, which opened the
Riohard ^^y ^^ ^ greater than political glory, though
Steele. possibly when Addison read the letter, he only
smiled and said to himself, " What will Dick do
next ! " " Dick " was one of Addison's worshippers. He
had been a cheerful, warm-hearted boy, always getting
into trouble, but so lovable that some one was usually
ready to come to the rescue ; and now that he was a man,
he had changed very little. He was married, but his
"dearest Prue," his "prettiest woman," sometimes lived
in luxury and sometimes was hard put to it to live at all
in a house where food and fuel were so much a matter of
chance. Steele had written some plays which were
rather dull ; and he had written a religious book which
gave him considerable trouble, for his friends were always
expecting him, he complained, to live up to his writings.
Plainly, however, his mind turned toward literature, and
as a reward for some pamphlets that he had produced,
the position of Gazetteer had been given him, that is,
the charge of the small sheet which published govern-
ment news.

96. The Tatler, 1709-1711. These gasettes were
exceedingly dull, and it occurred to Steele that to pub-
lish a small paper containing not only the news but a

1709-1711] THE CENTURY OF PROSE 161

little interesting reading matter might be a successful
undertaking. This paper was the famous Tatler, and
it was of this that he wrote to Addison with so much
enthusiasm. It was already well established, and instead
of only being sent to the country by the tri-weekly post,
as Steele had expected, it had been caught up by the
London folk with the greatest eagerness. Its popularity
was no marvel, for it was bright and entertaining. Steele
wrote according to his mood ; at one time a serious little
sermon on ranking people according to their real merits
and not according to their riches or honors ; at another
time a criticism of the theatre ; at another, a half -jesting,
half-earnest page on giving testimonials. This playful
manner of saying serious things, with its opportunities
for humor and pathos and character drawing, was exactly
the mode of writing adapted to Addison, though he had
never discovered it, — no great wonder, for this sort of
essay was something entirely new. Bacon wrote "essays,"
but with him the word meant simply a preliminary sketch
of a subject as opposed to a finished treatise. These
light, graceful chats on politics, manners, literature, and
art were meant for the day only, but they were so well
done that they have become classics.

Suddenly Steele announced that the Tatler had come
to its end. One reason that he gave for its discontinu-
ance was that the previous numbers would make four
volumes ! He published them in book form with a whim-
sical and generous little acknowledgment of the help
that he had received from Addison. " This good Office
he performed with such Force of Genius, Humour, Wit,
and Learning, that I fared like a distressed Prince, who
calls in a powerful Neighbour to his Aid ; I was undone
by my Auxiliary; when I had once called him in, I could
not subsist without Dependance on him."

l62 ENGLAND'S LITERATURE [1711-1713

97. The Spectator, 1711-1713. The Tatler had run
fqr nearly two years. Two months after its closing num-
ber appeared, Steele and Addison united in publishing
the Spectator, which came out every day but Sunday.
g,y This is even more famous than the Tatler, and
Roger ae its fame is due chiefly to "Sir Roger de Cov-

oveiey. gj-]gy" g, character introduced by Steele and
continued by Addison. Sir Roger is drawn as having
been a gay young man of the town ; but at the time of
his appearance in the Spectator he is a middle-aged coun-
try gentleman, hale and hearty, loved by every one,
believing himself to be the sternest of quarter-session
justices, but in reality the softest-hearted man that ever
sat on the bench. His servants and his tenants all love
him. He has a chaplain whom he has chosen for good
sense and understanding of backgammon, rather than for
learning, as he did not wish to be "insulted with Latin
and Greek" at his own table.

All through these essays there is kindly humor, viva-
city, and originality ; and all is expressed with exquisite
simplicity and clearness in a style so perfectly suited to
the thought that the reader often forgets to notice its
excellence. The subjects, as in the Tatler, were any-
thing and everything, and the essays themselves were
the chat of refined, intelligent people ; they were a kind
of ideal coffee-house "extension."

98. Addison's other work. The Spectator came to
an end as suddenly as the Tatler. A third paper, the
Guardian, was begun after a short time ; but between
oato. these two Addison brought out his drama Cato.
"13. j^ ^gg ^ perfectly well-bred play, — dignified
and cold. The Spectator represented Addison with his
friends ; Cato represented Addison with strangers. But,
most unreasonably, this rather uninteresting drama was

1704] THE CENTURY OF PROSE 163

a distinct success ; for both Tories and Whigs claimed to
be described in its fine speeches, and every one wanted
to see it. Addison probably thought it far superior to his
essays ; but neither that nor any other poeti-
cal work of his is of special value, except a few
of his hymns. Addison's religion was sincere, and gave
to his pen the inspiration which the theatre failed to
furnish. His paraphrase of the twenty-third psalm, " The
Lord my pasture shall prepare," is excellent ; but in
"The spacious firmament on high" there is a certain
majesty and breadth that has rarely been excelled. He
became the Secretary of State, but died when only forty-
seven years of age. Merry Dick Steele became Sir
Richard on the accession of George I. Before he was
sixty, his health failed and he retired to the country.
There is a tradition that in the feebleness of his last
months he insisted on being carried out to see the
villagers dance on the green and to give them prizes.

99. Jonathan Swift, 1667-1745. There were two
men of the time of Queen Anne whose names are familiar
to-day chiefly because each wrote a book that children
like. The name of the first was Jonathan Swift, that
of the second was Daniel Defoe. The first time that
Addison saw Swift was at a coffee-house. A tall stranger
in the garb of a clergyman stalked into the room, laid
his hat on a table, and began to stride back and forth.
After half an hour he paid the usual penny at the bar
and walked away. This was the eccentric clergyman
who had come from his home in Ireland to make a visit
to England. He had been secretary to Sir William
Temple, and he had written a book called the „^ „ . ,

*^ ' The Tale ol

Tale of a Tub. This is an allegory wherein a a Tub.

dying father gives his sons Peter, Martin, and

Jack (that is, the Church of Rome, the Lutherans, and

l64 ENGLAND'S LITERATURE [1704

the Calvinists) each a coat which will last throughout
their lives if kept clean. The book describes the comi-
cal and sometimes unseemly acts of the three. Swift
showed great ability to write clear, strong prose ; but he
used coarse mockery, reckless audacity, and cynical
scorn, such unfit weapons for religious discussion that
the clergyman author should have given up all hope of
advancement in the church. His book, however, was so
brilliant a satire that it gave him at once high rank as
a wielder of the pen.

In 1704, the year of the publication of the Tale of a
Tub, he also brought out the Battle of the Books. This
The Battle had been written some time before to help Sir
Books. William Temple out of an embarrassing situa-
1704. tion. Sir William had written an essay claim-

ing that ancient literature was superior to modern, and
had praised particularly a work which was soon after-
ward shown to be a modern forgery. The secretary
dashed into the fray, treating the dispute with a sarcastic
seriousness which soon became coarse and savage.

Swift had charge of a tiny parish not far from Dublin,
but he went often to England, sometimes remaining
several years. He wrote political pamphlets whose
malignant ridicule delighted his politician friends. He
cared little for money or for fame, but he longed for
political power ; and when he saw it dropped lightly
into the hands of men who had not half his talents, he
felt a savage scorn of those who would give authority so
easily to men who held it so unworthily. He hoped to
be given an English bishopric, but in view of the wrath
which his Tale of a Tub had aroused, the utmost that
his friends ventured to do was to make him Dean of St.
Patrick's Cathedral in Dublin. Each piece of satire
that Swift produced seemed more savage than what

1726]

THE CENTURY OF PROSE

I6S

had preceded it. One of the most bitter is his Modest
Proposal, which suggested that the children ^y^^^^^
of poor Irish parents should be served for food Proposal,
on the tables of the landlords, who, he says, "^®"
"as they have already devoured most of the parents,
seem to have the best title to the children." The cold,

JONATHAN SWIFT
1667-1745

business-like method by which he arranges the details of

his plan is as horrible as it is powerful. Gul- „ ,„ ,
^ ^ . Oulllver's

livers Travels was written as a satire, and Travels,
expressed his hatred and scorn of men perhaps ^'^*"
more fiercely than any other of his writings ; but " Gulli-
ver's" journeys to Lilliput and Brobdingnag. are, forget-
ting the allegory and leaving out the occasional coarse-

l66 ENGLAND'S LITERATURE [1726

ness, most charming stories for children. Nothing
could be more minutely accurate than his description of
the little people of Lilliput, who are barely six inches
high. They bring him a hogshead of wine, which holds
just half a pint. They ascertain his height by the aid of
a quadrant, and, finding its relation to theirs, they decide
that he needs exactly 1724 times as much food as one
of themselves. Swift makes no slip. From beginning
to end, everything is consistent with the country of six-
inch people. In Brobdingnag, matters are reversed, for
Brobdingnag is a land of giants where Gulliver has a
terrible encounter with a rat of the size of a large
mastiff, has to swim for his life in a vast bowl of cream,
and comes nearest to death when a year-old baby tries
to cram him into its mouth. So perfectly is the illusion
carried out that the hero is represented on his return to
his own country as stooping to enter his house because
the door seems to him so dangerously low.

If it were not for chance words and for Swift's let-
ters, we should think of him as half mad with hatred and
Character scorn ; but two men as unlike as Pope and
oiswiit. Addison cherished his friendship. Pope wrote
that he loved and esteemed him, and Addison dedicated
a book to him as " the most agreeable companion, the
truest friend, and the greatest genius of his age."
Somewhere in his nature there was a charm which held
both the "wicked wasp of Twickenham " and the gentle,
ever courteous Addison. His letters, too, written to
Lettersto "Stella," his pet name for a young girl whom
"steua." he knew and taught at Sir William Temple's,
are frankly affectionate ; and even as she grew to mature
womanhood, he still reported to her all the chat of the
day and the little happenings to himself in which he
knew she would be interested.

1^02-1745] THE CENTURY OF PROSE 167

Be you lords or be you earls,
You must write to naughty girls,

he wrote to her. In 1728 Stella died, and this hater of
his race and lover of individuals sorrowfully held for
an hour the unopened letter that he knew announced
her death. There was from the first a wild strain of
insanity in this many-sided man, and for several years
before his death his mind failed. He died in 1745.

100. Daniel Defoe, 16619-1731. Swift would have
looked upon it as the very irony of fate if he had known
that his most bitter satire had become a book for chil-
dren ; but Daniel Defoe would have been pleased, though
perhaps a little amused, to find that his Robinson Crusoe,
which he published as a real account of a real man, had
become not only a children's book but a work of the
imagination. Defoe was educated to be a non-conformist
clergyman, but he was little adapted to the profession.
He was like Steele in his proneness to get into scrapes,
but unlike Steele, he could usually find a way out.
When " King Monmouth " made his attempt to gain the
throne, Defoe was one of his adherents ; but in some
way he escaped punishment, and afterwards became a
strong supporter of William and Mary. He soon showed
that he could write most forcible English, and Tj,g
his Shortest Way with Dissenters proved him shortest
almost as much of a satirist as Swift himself. Dissenters.
There is a vast difference, however, in the ^'"'^■
satire of the two men ; for Defoe shows nothing of
Swift's hatred of his race ; and, earnest as he makes
himself appear in his pamphlets, we always think of him
as smiling wickedly over his pen to think how well he
was befooling his readers. In this pamphlet he suc-
ceeded almost too well. He suggested that an excellent
means of securing religious uniformity would be to hang

l68 ENGLAND'S LITERATURE [1692-1703

dissenting ministers and banish their people. It was a
time of severe laws and stern retribution, and the Dis-
senters were actually alarmed. Moreover, Parliament,
too, persisted in taking the matter seriously, declared
the pamphlet a libel on the English nation, and con-
demned ^its author to stand in the pillory. Most men
would have been somewhat troubled, but Defoe and his
Ode to the P^'^ were equal to the occasion ; and while in
Pillory. prison awaiting his punishment, he wrote an
Ode to the Pillory, which he called a state
machine for punishing fancy. He closed with a message
to his judges, —

Tell them : The men that placed him here
Are scandals to the Times !
Are at a loss to find his guilt,
And can't commit his crimes !

Defoe carried the day. He stood in the pillory ; but
flowers were heaped around him, he was cheered by
crowds of admiring bystanders, and thousands of copies
of his Ode were sold.

Defoe was the most inventive, original man of his
age, and he even published an Essay on Projects, sug-
Essayon gesting all sorts of new things. Among them
written' ^^^ ^^® P^^*^ ^°'^ giving to women the education
aiiouti692. which was then limited to men. He said, "If
knowledge and understanding had been useless additions
to the sex, God Almighty would never have given them
capacities; for he made nothing useless." Strikingly
similar to these words of Defoe is the statement of
Matthew Vassar a century and a half later in founding
the first college for women : " It occurred to me that
woman, having received from her Creator the same in-
tellectual constitution as man, has the same right as man
to intellectual culture and development."

I7I9]

THE CENTURY OF PROSE

169

One of Defoe's projects came to more fame and
importance than he dreamed. Every one was interested
in a sailor named Alexander Selkirk, who had been

DANIEL DEFOE
1659-1731'

abandoned on the island of Juan Fernandez, and who,
after five years of loneliness, had been rescued and
brought to England. Defoe went with the rest of the
world to see the man and talk with him ; but while
others soon forgot his story, Defoe remem- rom„s„„
bered, and a few years later he wrote Robinson Crusoe.
Crusoe, an account of a man who was wrecked
on a desert island with nothing except a knife, a pipe, a

I/O ENGLAND'S LITERATURE ■ [1722

little tobacco in a box, and a hope of getting some
articles from the wreck of the vessel. This book became
a favorite at once. It was so realistic that every reader
fancied himself in the sailor's place and planned with
him what to do for safety and comfort. This is just
where Defoe's unique power lies, in putting himself in
the place of his characters. In Robinson Crusoe he im-
agined himself on the island and thought how he could
get to the vessel, for instance, and how he should feel
to find a footprint on the sand when he supposed that he
was entirely alone. Having fancied what he should do,
it was easy to put his thoughts into clear, simple Eng-
lish, never forgetting that his aim was to tell a story,
not to ornament phrases. The book was so successful
that Defoe wrote a continuation of the adventures of
his hero. It was very like him to insert an aggrieved
little preface, taking high moral grounds against the
"envious people" who had called his work a romance,
and saying that doing such deeds was "a Practice all
honest Men abhor."

Three years after Robinson Crusoe appeared, Defoe
produced \\\i Journal of the Plague Year, which was writ-
A Journal ten, the title-page gravely asserts, "by a citizen

°V''° who continued all the while in London." This

rlague

Year. 1722. was literally true, although the aforesaid citizen
was but four or five years old at the time of the visita-
tion. The book describes minutely all the details of
the terrible season, from the piteous " Lord, have mercy
upon us ! " written on the houses to the coming of the
horrible dead cart that sometimes carried away the
dying with the dead. It is most impressive, and has
more than once been quoted as authority on the events
of the pestilence. Defoe wrote several picaresque stories,
or stories having rascals for heroes, each tale expected,

1702-1714] THE CENTURY OF PROSE 171

according to the preface of the author, to bring any
wicked reader to repentance.

101. The Age of Queen Anne. — The novel. Taking
a general view of the Age of Queen Anne, we see that
it was marked, first, by the development of literary
criticism ; and, second, by the excellence of its prose
and the beginning of the periodical. In poetry espe-
cially certain principles were tacitly adopted as producing
the correctness which the age demanded. The five-beat
line of Dryden and Pope, with the thought neatly en-
closed within a well-polished rhymed couplet, became
the generally accepted ideal of perfection. This did not
tend to a free manifestation of poetical ability; but it
did tend to produce prose so accurate, graceful, and
agreeable as to become the glory of the Age of Anne.
Its best manifestation was in the periodicals whose estab-
lishment was the second distinguishing mark of the age.
They had been preceded by newspapers ; but the Tatler
and the Spectator were not bare chronicles of events,
they were not the controversial weekhes of the Civil
War, they were real literature, and their prose -had not
only usefulness but beauty.

Prose was soon to discover a new field, the novel.

There had been Elizabethan romances. The Pilgrim! s

Progress, Dryden' s translations, and the slender thread -

of narrative fiction in the Spectator. Then had come,

Robinson Crusoe, which, like The Pilgrim's Progress, was

artistic enough to satisfy the most critical and simple

enough to delight the most ignorant. The next step

was the novel, that is, the story which pictures

, ,' . , , . -11 The novel,

real life and deals with the passions, especially

that of love. The novel must have a plot, it must have

prominent and secondary characters ; and, just as in a

play, these characters must act naturally and must

172

ENGLAND'S LITERATURE

[1740

change as they are acted upon by incidents or by other
characters.

102. Samuel Richardson, 1689-1761. The first book
that fully answered these requirements was written

by Samuel Richard-
son, a successful
middle-aged printer.
He had never writ-
ten a book, but he
had written letters
by the score, and
had written them so
well that some one
suggested his pub-
lishing a series of
letters about every-
day home life to
serve as models for
those who lacked his
ability. The idea
struck Richardson
favorably, and it oc-
curred to him that
the interest would
be increased if there
were some thread of
connection between the letters. The result was Pa-
mela, or. Virtue Rewarded, the first English novel. It
Pamela, came out in 1740, declaring on its title-page
HewMdea. ^^^* ^'^^ o^&cX was " to cultivate the Principles
1740. of Virtue and Religion." Pamela Andrews is

a friendless young woman who is persecuted by the at-
tentions of a fashionable reprobate. Finally, after being
converted to honor and uprightness by her virtue, he

SAMUEL RICHARDSON
1689-1761

1^42-1749] THE CENTURY OF PROSE 1/3

offers her marriage, and she accepts him. The story
goes on, volume after volume ; but the fiction-hungry
people of 1740 were sorry when it came to an end.

103. Henry Fielding, 1707-1754. Everybody was
interested in Pamela, but a writer of comic plays named
Henry Fielding was not only interested but amused ;
for the sentimentality of the book and its rather patron-
izing tone of giving good moral advice struck him as
being ludicrous. Straightway he seized his pen and
began in caricature Joseph Andrews. Joseph is
Pamela's brother, and he is as much tormented Andrews,
by the devotion of a certain widow as was ^'*^"
Pamela by the attentions of her persecutor. Fielding
had more ability to make his characters seem real than
Richardson, but he was not the superior of the publisher
in delicate strokes and careful attention to details.

Within thirteen years after the appearance of Pamela,
Richardson wrote two more novels. Sir Charles Grandi-
son and his best work, Clarissa Harlowe. There Qi^jg^^
were eight volumes of Clarissa, and after the Haxiowe.
appearance of the first four, Richardson was
besieged by letters without number, telling him how
their writers had wept over his pathos, and beseeching
him to give the story a happy ending. Fielding, too,
produced other novels, and of these, Tom Jones ^^^ ^^^
is his best work. Fielding is strong and robust. i749-
His novels are as breezy as if they had been written on
a mountain top and as true to life as if they had come
from the very heart of a London crowd. Unfortunately,
they as well as, in varying degree, all the novels of the
time, are marked by what seems to the present age a
revolting coarseness.

104. Tobias Smollett, 1721-1771. Two other nov-
elists were soon added to the company, Tobias George

174 ENGLAND'S LITERATURE [1748-1768

Smollett and Laurence Sterne. Smollett studied medi-
cine and went to sea as a ship doctor, but his real interest
Hoderiok '^^^ ^" literature, and in 1748 he wrote Roderick
Random. Random, which pictures many scenes from his
■'■'*^" own life, with here and there a bit of tender-

ness or whimsicality. Several other works followed
this, animated and interesting, but without Fielding's
accurate character drawing.

105. Laurence Sterne, 1713-1763. Sterne was an
Irish clergyman with a good income and an irregular
talent. His three works are as inconsistent as the man

himself, for one is a collection of sermons ; one,
Tristram ..,,,. . .

siiana;. Tristram Shandy, a whimsical delineation of
1759-1767. jjQjj^g lifg ^jtjj Qjjg oj. ^^Q delightful characters ;

and one. The Sentimental Journey. In this Sterne is
Thesenu- sometimes frankly immoral ; sometimes he
joMBey gives us beautiful little descriptions ; some-
1768. times his sentiment is ridiculously affected ;

sometimes he gives such passages as the following
meditation on the Bastile : —

And as for the Bastile — the terror is in the word. — Make the
most of it you can, said I to myself, the Bastile is but another word
for a tower ; — ^ and a tower is but another word for a house you
can't get out of. — Mercy on the gouty ! for they are in it twice a
year — but with nine livres a day, and pen and ink and paper and
patience, albeit a man can't get out, he may do very well within, —
at least for a month or six weeks ; at the end of which, if he is a
harmless fellow, his innocence appears, and he comes out a better
and wiser man than he went in.

After thus moralizing himself into satisfaction, sud-
denly he hears a starling in a cage who has learned to
say the one sentence, " I can't get out." Sterne's mood
changes. He writes a glowing address to liberty, pic-
tures one captive and his sorrows, and sends his ser-
vant away, "not willing he should see anything upon

1750-1780] THE CENTURY OF PROSE

175

my cheek which would cost the honest fellow a heart-

,ache."

\) 106. Samuel Johnson, 1709-1784. The decade
marked by the beginning of the novel was from 1740
to 1750. The chief place of literary honor during the
thirty years following 1750 is given to a man whose
essays are not so good as those of Addison and Steele,
whose dictionary was antiquated long ago, whose prin-
cipal story is voted dry, whose edition of Shakespeare

DR. JOHNSON
I 709-1 784

is worthless, and whose Lives of the Poets alone is of
any special value to-day. This man was Samuel Johnson.
He was the sickly, nervous son of a Lichfield bookseller.

176 ENGLAND'S LITERATURE [17SS

He made his way to the university, pitifully poor, but

too independent to accept help. A few years later, he

opened a private school for boys. He was very large and

awkward ; he rolled from side to side when he walked ;

he grumbled and muttered, and his face, seamed and

scarred by disease, trembied and twitched. The wonder

is not that the school was a failure, but that even one

pupil ventured to attend it. After the failure Johnson

went to London with a capital of twopence half-penny

and a partly completed tragedy. His aim was to find

literary work ; and for some time he did whatever there

was to do. After ten years or more of drudgery, he was

little richer than at first ; but he had become so well

known that several booksellers united in offer-
Johnson's
Dictionary, ing him fifteen hundred guineas to prepare a

^^^^' dictionary of the English language. Seven or

eight years of hard work passed, and the book was com-
pleted. It shows that its author knew nothing of etymo-
logy, — but in those days comparatively little was known
of the science by any one, — its definitions are some-
times exceedingly good, and sometimes based upon the
whims of the writer ; for instance, he hated the Scotch,
and therefore he defined oats as " grain which in England
is generally given to horses, but in Scotland supports
the people." It was still the feeling in England that a
book of such importance should be dedicated
to a " patron," who was expected to return the
honor by an interest in the work and generous assistance.
The plan of the dictionary had been addressed to Lord
Chesterfield, and this dainty nobleman at first encour-
aged its author ; but he soon tired of the uncouth scholar,
whom he called " a respectable Hottentot, who throws
his meat anywhere but down his throat," and was " not
at home " to his calls.

I750-I759 THE CENTURY OF PROSE 177

When it was known that the dictionary was about to
appear, Chesterfield became interested, and hoped, in
spite of his neglect, to secure the dedication to himself.
He published letters recommending it, but they were
too late. Johnson published in return a reply which was
calm and dignified, but so scathing that it practically
ended literary patronage save that of the public. The
book came out. It was infinitely better than anything
preceding, and it was received with an enthusiasm which
in this age of dictionaries can hardly be imagined.

In the course of the seven years that Johnson spent
on the dictionary, he published the Raml>ler, a. periodical
made up of essays written after the fashion of
Addison's, but lacking Addison's light touch Hammer,
and graceful humor. Neither these nor the 1760-17B2.
dictionary added any large amount to the author's
finances; and when, in 1759, the death of his mother
occurred, he. had not money for the funeral expenses.
To raise it, he wrote in the evenings of one Basseias,
week, Rasselas, Prince of Abyssinia. This is ^^J^ggj^^
usually called a story, but the characters serve 1759.
only as mouthpieces for the various reflections of the
author. " Abyssinia " is simply a convenient name for
an imaginary country.

Three years after the publication of the dictionary the
government offered Johnson a pension of ;^300. Even
in his poverty the independent lexicographer jojmson's
hesitated to accept it ; and well he might, for pension,
in his dictionary he had defined a pension as " pay given
to a state hireling for treason to his country ; " but he
was finally made to see that the offered gift was not a
bribe but a reward for what he had already accom-
plished. He accepted it, and then life became easier.

107. James Boswell, 1740-1795. It was about this

178 ENGLAND'S LITERATURE [1763-1784

time that he met a Scotchman named Boswell, who be-
came his humble worshipper. Wherever Johnson went,
Boswell followed. Boswell asked all sorts of questions,
both useful and idle, just to see what reply his oracle
would make. The great man snubbed the little man,
and the little man hastened home to write in his jour-
nal what a superb snub it was. Mrs. Boswell was not
pleased. " I have seen a bear led by a man," she said,
"but never before a man led by a bear." Johnson once
wrote her, " The only thing in which I have the honour
to agree with you is in loving him ; " for the young wor-
shipper had at last won a return of affection from his
idol. For twenty years he wrote at night every word
that he could remember of Johnson's conversation
through the day. It was well worth noting, for Johnson

was the best talker of the age. Now that his
Johnson's _ °

oonversa- pension relieved him of want, he had little in-
°°' clination to make the effort required by writ-

ing, but he was ever ready to talk. Much of his best
talking was done at the famous Literary Club, which he.
Sir Joshua Reynolds, and Edmund Burke founded. He
always seemed to feel that literary composition required
the use of long words and a ponderous rolling up of
phrases ; but his conversation was direct and simple.
He argued, he spoke of history, of biography, of liter-
ature or morals. His scholarship, his powerful intel-
lect, and his colloquial powers gave value to whatever
he said. When a new book came out, the first question
asked by the public was, " What does the Club say of
it.'" Johnson was the great man of the Club, and for
years he was really, as he has so often been called, the
literary dictator of England.

108. Johnson's later work. During the last twenty
years of his life he did a comparatively small amount of

1765-1784] THE CENTURY OF PROSE 179

literary work. He edited Shakespeare, an undertaking

for which his sHght knowledge of the six- Edition oi

teenth century drama had given him but an shaite-
-' _ ° speare.

ill preparation. He journeyed to Scotland, i765.

and was treated so kindly that much of his prejudice

against the Scotch melted away. His letters about this

journey, written to a friend, were easy and THeJour-

natural ; but when he made them into a book, "°^*V''*

' ' Hebrides.

TAe Journey to the Hebrides, they were trans- 1775.

lated into the ceremoniously elaborate phraseology

which alone he regarded as worthy of print. His best

work was his Lives of the Poets, a series of The Lives

sketches prepared for a collection of English ofthePoets,
^ ^ => 1779 ; en-

poetry. These were intended to be very short, larged in

but Johnson became interested in them, and ^'^^^
did far more than he had agrefed. The result is not
only brief "lives " of the authors but criticisms of their
writings. These criticisms are not always just, for
sometimes Johnson's strong prejudices and sometimes
his lack of the power to appreciate certain qualities
stood in the way of fairness ; but, fair or unfair, they
are the honest expression of an independent, powerful
mind, and every one is well worth reading. This was
Johnson's last work. He died in 1784.

109. Oliver Goldsmith, 1728-1774. One of John-
son's special friends at the Club was the poet Oliver
Goldsmith, a genial, gay-hearted Irishman, a boy all his
lifd. What to do with him was always a puzzling ques-
tion to his friends. His bishop would not accept him
as a clergyman, either because of his pranks at the
university or because of the scarlet breeches which he
insisted upon wearing. A devoted uncle sent him to
London to study law ; but on the way he was beguiled
into gambling and did not reach the city. He began to

l8o ENGLAND'S LITERATURE [1760-1766

Study medicine at Edinburgh ; made his way to Leyden
for further instruction ; borrowed money to go to Paris,
but spent it on rare tulip bulbs for his uncle ; and finally
set out to travel over the Continent "with but one spare
shirt, a flute, and a single guinea." He took his degree
probably at Padua, went to London, read proof for
Richardson, acted as tutor in an academy, wrote chil-
dren's books — possibly Goody Two Shoes. He thought
of going to India as a physician, of exploring central
Letters Asia, of journeying to Aleppo to study the

fcomaOit- arts of the East. He had no special longing
Izenoltlie , , . , ^ , ... , , , ,

World. to become a knight of the quill, but he needed

1760-1761. money and he wrote. Letters from a Citizen
of the World brought him a small sum ; an agreeable
History of little History of England brought more; but
England. Goldsmith had no more providence than a spar-
' ■ row, and soon Johnson, like his early friends in

Ireland, began to wonder what to do with " Noll." His
careless fashion of living was entirely different from
Johnson's sturdy uprightness ; but Johnson's heart was
big enough to sympathize with him, and when a mes-
sage came one morning that Goldsmith was in great
trouble, Johnson guessed what the matter was and sent
him a guinea, following it himself as soon as possible.

Goldsmith had not paid his rent, and his landlady had
arrested him. The two men discussed what could be
done, and Goldsmith produced the manuscript of a novel
Thevioar ready for the press. Johnson carried it to a
otwake- bookseller and sold it for £,60. This was the
■ manuscript of the Vicar of Wakefield ; but the
publisher did not realize what a prize he had won, and
ThoTrav- was in no haste to bring the book out. In the
eiier. 1764. mean time. Goldsmith's Traveller appeared.
Then there was a sensation at the Club ; for, save

1764-1766] THE CENTURY OF PROSE

181

by Johnson, Reynolds, Burke, and perhaps a few others.
Goldsmith has been looked upon as a mere literary
drudge. He had felt the unspoken contempt, and had
been awkward and ill at ease. Now that the Club and

11 .«-«.»*. , «. 1

v|^

vv^.' ■^.;S|-«

l^'l-::;^;;'':''

■■'■■ ■':-:!■; 'rv'il''

1^

!^

4'

,/

OLIVER GOLDSMITH
I 728-1 774

the other literary folk of the day declared that the
Traveller was the best poem that had appeared since
the death of Pope, Goldsmith's peculiarities were no
longer called awkwardness, but the whims of a man of
genius. Then came out the Vicar of Wakejield with its
ridiculous plot, its delightful humor, its gentleness, its
comical situations, and the exquisite grace of style that
marked the work of Goldsmith's pen, whether poem or
novel or history. Again the literary world was delighted ;

1 82 ENGLAND'S LITERATURE [1768-1773

but the £,60 received for the manuscript had long ago
ThoGooa- ^^^" spent. His next work was a comedy, The
Natured Good-Natured Man. This gave him ;£500 ;
Man. 1768. ^^^ straightway he began to live as if he were
to have ;£500 a month. Soon his pockets were empty,
and the much praised Dr. Goldsmith was again at the-
beck and call of the booksellers. He wrote history.
The Do- natural history, whatever they called for; one
serted vii- thing was as easy as another. In 1770 he wrote
lage. 1770. j^^^ Deserted Village. Like almost all of Pope's
work, this is written in the rhymed heroic couplet, but
here the resemblance ends. Pope's writings were pol-
ished ; Goldsmith's were marked by an inimitable natu-
ral charm, the charm of a graceful style, of a tenderness
and delicate humor of which Pope never dreamed. The
idea of the poem is pathetic ; but the parts that come to
mind oftenest are the sympathetic description of the
village pastor who was " passing rich with forty pounds
a year," and the picture of the schoolmaster : —

In arguing, too, the parson owned his skill.
For, even tho' vanquished, he could argue still;
While words of learned length and tliundering sound
Amazed the gazing rustics ranged around ;
And still they gazed, and still the wonder grew,
That one small head could carry all he knew.

Once more Goldsmith wrote a play. She Stoops to
Conquer. This was founded upon his own adventures
She stoops ^'^^^ '^'^^'^ possessed of a guinea and a bor-
to oouiiuer. rowed horse. " Where is the best house in the
place f " he had demanded in a strange village
with all the airs that he fancied to be the mark of an
experienced traveller. The home of a wealthy gentle-
man was mischievously pointed out, and the young fel-
low rode up to the door, gave his orders right and left,

I756-I77S] THE CENTURY OF PROSE 183

and finally invited his host and family to join him in a
bottle of wine. The host had discovered that the con-
sequential youngster was the son of an old friend, and
he carried on the mistake till the boy was about to take
his leave.

This play was Goldsmith's last work. His income
had become sufficient for comfort; but he had no idea
how to manage it, and he was always in debt. He died
when not yet forty-six years of age, the same careless,
generous, lovable boy to the end. His bust was placed
in Westminster Abbey by the Club. Johnson wrote the
inscription, which said that he " left scarcely any style
of writing untouched, and touched nothing that he did
not adorn."

110. Edmund Burke, 1729-1797. This period, al-
ready so rich in essays and novels and poetry, was
also marked by oratory and history. Its greatest orator
was Edmund Burke, an Irishman, who made his way
to England and began his literary work by publishing
essays about the time when Johnson's die- onthesni)-
tionary came out, the most famous being On b"^^„i
the Sublime and Beautiful. Johnson admired 1756.
him heartily, and felt that in him he had an opponent
worthy of his steel. ".That fellow calls forth all my
powers," he said. At another time he declared that a
stranger could not talk with Burke five minutes in the
street without saying to himself, " This is an extraordi-
nary man."

Burke entered Parliament and was one of the most
prominent figures of the House in the stormy days pre-
ceding the American Revolution. Then it was speech on
that he made his famous Speech on Concilia- ^""^ ^^er"
tion with America. On the part of the govern- loa. 1775.
ment he was the most prominent prosecutor of Warren

l84 ENGLAND'S LITERATURE [i759-i790

Hastings for abuse of power in India. The Reign of
Heiiections Terror in France called forth his Reflections on
on the the French Revolutioji.- Burke was not merely
volution. a politician ; he was a thinker and orator and
1790. pQgt ^jjQ devoted himself to* politics. The

thought is always first with him, but in the expression
of the thought he is generous in his use of poetical
adornment ; and yet his adornment is vastly more than
a inere decoration. In his Conciliation, for instance, no
statistics would have given his audience nearly so good
an idea of the energy and enterprise of the colonists as
his picturesque description of the manner in which they
had carried on the whale fishery : —

Whilst we follow them among the tumbling mountains of ice,
and behold them penetrating into the deepest frozen recesses of
Hudson's Bay and Davis's Straits, whilst we are looking for them
beneath the Arctic Circle, we hear that they have pierced into the
opposite region of polar cold, that they are at the antipodes, and
engaged under the frozen Serpent of the north.

111. William Robertson, 1721-1793. The historians
of the eighteenth century are represented by William
Robertson, David Hume, and Edward Gibbon. Rob-
ertson was a Scotch clergyman who wrote of three
different countries, A History, of Scotland during the
Reigns of Queen Mary and James the Sixth, in 1759;
then The History of Charles V. of Germany ; and finally,
A History of America.

112. David Hume, 1711-1776. David Hume was
also a Scotchman, a man of such indomitable perse-
verance that his energy was not conquered even by
years of unsuccessful effort. At twenty-three he de-
termined to devote himself to literature. His first book
was a failure, but he struggled on with many failures
and small success. He was not the kind of man to be

1754-1787] THE CENTURY OF PROSE 185

discouraged, and with the utmost composure he set to
work on a History of Englmid. The first vol- History oi
ume failed. He wrote a second. That failed. ^"|^™*'
He wrote a third. It was received with some i76i.
slight interest. He continued, and at last the reading
world began to appreciate what he had done. They
discovered that whatever was narrated was told vividly,
that Hume recognized a great event when he saw it,
and took pains to trace not only its effect but the causes
which led up to it ; and that he was interested not only
in great events but in the people and their ways. One
fault was common to both Hume and Robertson, or
possibly in some degree to their age, a lack of historical
accuracy, the most unpardonable fault in a writer of
history.

113. Edward Gibbon, 1737-1794. No such charge
can be made against the writings of Edward Gibbon.
He was an Englishman with whom, even as a boy, the
love of history was a passion. The idea of History oi
writing the History of the Decline and Fall of ^^^^^
the Roman Ejnpire came to him in Rome in the Roman
1 764, but the first volume did not appear until jj^'g"'
1776. The labor involved in preparing this i787.
work was enormous. It was not the simple story of a
single people, but a complicated narrative involved with
the history of all Europe. Merely to collect the neces-
sary knowledge was a gigantic task. It demanded a most
powerful intellect to arrange the facts, and to show their
proper connection ; a remarkable literary ability to pre-
sent them clearly and attractively. All this Gibbon did, a
little ponderously sometimes, but vividly and eloquently.
He is by far the greatest of the eighteenth century his-
torians.

114. New qualities in literature. In the literature

l86 ENGLAND'S LITERATURE [1751

of the last quarter of the century certain qualities were
seen which were new chiefly in that they were much
more strongly manifested than before. First, there
was more interest in man simply because he was man,
and not because he was rich or of noble birth. The
revolution in America and the early part of the revo-
lution in France emphasized the idea that every one,
no matter of how lowly a position, possessed rights.
Second, there was a genuine love of real nature, not
nature made into clipped hedges and gravelled walks.
Third, there was a certain impatience of restraint, an
unwillingness to accept the conclusions of others. Sub-
jects were chosen that were of personal interest to
the author and were therefore treated with warmth of
feeling.

115. Thomas Gray, 1716-1771. These qualities were
the marks of what is known as the romantic revival, a
revolt against the artificial formality of Pope and his
followers. Even while Pope was alive and at the height
of his fame, poets in both Scotland and England began
to manifest a sincere love for nature and to break away
from the rhymed couplet. In 1751, seven years after
the death of Pope, a notable poem was produced by
Thomas Gray, a quiet, sensitive scholar who spent more
than half his life in Cambridge. Here he wrote his
, famous Elegy in a Country Churchyard. For

Elegy. eight years he kept the Elegy by him, adding,

taking away, polishing, and refining, until it
had become worthy, even in form, to be named among
the great poems of the world. Its fame, however, is due
less to its polish than, first, to its genuine interest in the
lives of the poor, to its sympathy with their pleasures
and realization of their hardships ; and, second, to its
observation of the little things of nature, the "moping

i76s] THE CENTURY OF PROSE 187

owl," the "droning flight" of the beetle, "the swallow
twittering from the straw-built shed." Nature, accord-
ing to the school of Pope, was rude and perhaps a little
vulgar until smoothed and trimmed and made into lawns
and gardens. Pope might have brought a swan or a
peacock into a poem, but he would hardly have thought
it fitting to introduce beetles or swallows, save the swal-
lows that "roost in Nilus' dusty urn." Neither would
Pope have thought a ploughman who " homeward plods
his weary way" a proper subject for poetry. To Pope
a ploughman was simply a part of the world's machinery,
and he would no more have written about him than about
a bolt or a screw. All Gray's poems can be contained
in one thin volume, but their significance, especially that
of the Elegy, can hardly be overestimated.

116. Percy's Reliques, 1765. Interest in roman-
ticism was greatly strengthened by the appearance in
1765 of a book called The Reliques of Ancient English
Poetry, but better known as "Percy's Reliques." This
was a collection of old ballads made by Bishop Percy.
Unfortunately he felt that in their original form they
were too rude to be presented to the literary world ;
and therefore he smoothed and polished them to some
extent, substituting lines of his own for such as were
missing or such as appeared to him unworthy. The
timid editor was astounded to find that these old ballads
received a hearty welcome, and that their very sim-
plicity and rude directness were their great charm to
people who were tired of couplets and criticism. ___-

117. William Cowpei', 1731-1860. Thus the Elegy,
the Reliques, and even Goldsmith's Deserted Village,
written in couplets as it was, helped on the new roman-
ticism. So did the work of William Cowper, who began
to write soon after the death of Goldsmith, and who

l88 ENGLAND'S LITERATURE [1785

resembled Goldsmith in love of nature and in writing
straight from the heart. As a boy Cowper was the
shyest of children, and it is no wonder that the timid
little fellow suffered agonies when at the age of six he
was sent to boarding school. From time to time through-
out his life his mind was unbalanced, often because the
gentle, conscientious man feared that his sins were un-
pardonable. His later years were spent in the quiet vil-
lages of Weston and Olney ; and he sent to his friends
most charming letters about his pets, his garden, his
long walks about the country, and the merry thoughts
and witty fancies that were continually coming into his
mind. Every one knew him and every one loved him.
He was as happy as was possible to him. Here it was
that he wrote. Many of his hymns, such as God moves
in a mysterious way, and Oh ! for a closer walk with
God, are familiar ; but equally well known are The
Diverting History of John Gilpin with its rollicking fun,
and The Task. " What shall I write on .' " the poet
once asked his friend Lady Austen. "The sofa," she
The Task, replied jestingly. He obeyed, and named his
1785. poem The Task. He wrote first and with mock

dignity about the evolution of the sofa. Then he slipped
away from parlors and cities and wrote of the country
that he loved.

God made the country, and man made the town,

he said. Here he is at his best. Every season was dear
to him. He writes of winter : —

I love thee, all unlovely as thou seemest,
And dreaded as thou art.

He sympathizes with the horses dragging a heavy wagon
in the storm ; he notes the robin, -^

1775] THE CENTURY OF PROSE 189

Flitting light
From spray to spray, where'er he rests he shakes
From many a twig the pendant drops of ice
That tinkle in the withered leaves below.

He says indignantly : —

I would not enter on my list of friends

(Though graced with polished manners and fine sense,

Yet wanting sensibility) the man

Who needlessly sets foot upon a worm.

All this was quite different from the earlier poetry of the
century. Pope's influence had not disappeared by any
means, and Cowper could write such balanced lines as —

Knowledge is proud that he has learned so much ;
Wisdom is humble that he knows no more ;

but this frank love of nature and simple things was not
in the least like Pope ; and there was more and even
better poetry of this sort to be done before the close of
the century by a Scotchman named Robert Burns.

118. Robert Burns, 1759-1796. Burns was the son
of an intelligent, religious farmer. His years of school
were few, but he was by no means an ignorant man, for
he had a shelf of good books, and he had long evenings of
conversation with" his father, a man of no common mould.
Another thing was of the utmost value to him who was
to become the poet of Scotland, and that was his mother's
familiarity with the ballads and songs of the olden time,
and the fairy tales and legends with which the mind of one
Betty Davidson, a member of the family, was stocked.

When Burns was sixteen, he met a pretty girl, and
wrote a poem to her. Handsome Nell. This Burns's
was the beginning, and from that time until JJ"tpoem,
he was twenty-eight, his life was full of song- nou. 1775.
writing, of hard work, and of the rather wild merry-
making of one or two clubs. He had no model for his

igo ENGLAND'S LITERATURE [1786

poetry except the poems of Allan Ramsay, who wrote
in the early part of the century, and Robert Fergus-
son, who wrote about the middle. When Burns dis-
covered Fergusson's work, he was delighted, for here
was a poet who wrote in Scotch, who loved nature, who
had a turn for satire keen and kindly, and 'a touch of
humor. Burns felt that he had found a master, and for
some time he meekly followed Fergusson's w^ays of writ-
ing and imitated his metres without apparently the least
idea that he himself was far greater than his predecessor.
When Burns was twenty-five, his father died. He
and his brother tried hard to make some profit from the
farm, but it seemed hopeless. Robert's own wildness
had brought him into difficulties, and he determined to
go to Jamaica. One thing must be had first, and that
was the money for his outfit and his passage. Some of
his friends suggested that printing the poems which he
Burns's ^^^ written might help to fill his empty purse.
first vol- In 1786 the little volume was published, and

ume. 1786. , r •* • t • t 1 • xt

the poet felt rich with his twenty guineas. He
bought his outfit, paid his passage, and wrote what he
supposed was the last song he should ever compose in
Scotland. The vessel was not quite ready to sail, and
while he waited, a letter came which suggested that it
might be worth while to publish an edition of his poems
visit to i"^ Edinburgh. For the glory and gain of such
Eainburgii. a possibility, the poet set out for Edinburgh
and the ship sailed without him. He had no letters of
introduction to the great folk of the capital city, but none
were needed, for his poems had gone before him ; and he,
the young peasant fresh from his unsuccessful farming,
found himself the social and literary lion of the day. The
new edition of his poems came out, and he was f^ted and
flattered until many a brain would have turned.

1786-1788] THE CENTURY OF PROSE

191

The farmer poet, however, was perfectly self-possessed.
He was not in the least overpowered by the attention
shown him. His only mistake was in not re- Disappoint
alizing that the people who praised him so me"*-
heartily would forget all about him in a month. He
hoped that some of those men of rank and wealth who
claimed to be his friends
and admirers would help
to secure for him some
position in which he
could have part of his
time free for poetry. He
was disappointed, for
nothing came of his visit
but a little money, a lit-
tle fame, and the rest-
less, unhappy feeling that
there was a world of in-
tellect, of cultivation, of
association with the
most brilliant men of his
country, and that he was
shut out from this by nothing but the want of money.
He was not strong enough to put the thought away from
him. He had one more winter in Edinburgh ; but while
there was quite as much admiration of his poems, the
novelty was gone, and the lovers of novelty were not so
attentive. Burns made no complaint. He secured a
position as an excise man, rented a little farm, married
Jean Armour, and set out to live on his small income.
Scotland's poet was disciplining smugglers, working on
a farm, and incidentally writing such poems as Tarn
O'Shanter, Bannockburn, and The Banks 0' Doon.

The farm was not a success, and he moved to a tiny

ROBERT BURNS
1759-1796

192 ENGLAND'S LITERATURE [1788-1796

house in Dumfries. Tlie years were hard. Burns's
readiness to please and be pleased led him into what-
ever company chose him, not the company which he
should have chosen. He wrote to a friend that he was
" making ballads, and then drinking and singing them."
He was keenly sensitive to right and wrong, but lacked
the power to choose the right and refuse the wrong.
The end came very soon, for he was only thirty-seven
when he died.

X19. Burns's most notable work. The songs of
Burns have been sung wherever English is spoken.
They are so simple and sincere that they go straight to
the heart, so-musical that they almost make their own
Songs of melody. Songs of such intense feeling as
Bums. " My luve is like a red, red rose," of such ten-
derness as "O wert thou in the cauld blast" cannot go
out of fashion. Burns's tenderness is not for human
beings alone, but for the tiny field mouse whose "wee
bit housie " has been torn up by the plough, and whom
he comforts, —

But, Mousie, thou art no thy lane,*
In proving foresight may be vain :
The best-laid schemes o' mice an' men

Gang aft a-gley.^

Closely allied to his tenderness is his charity, a charity
which is often delightfully combined with humor, as in
his Address to the Deil, which closes, —

But fare you weel, auld Nickie-ben ! ^
O wad ye tak a thought an' men' !
Ye aiblins* might — I dinna ken —
Still hae a stake.''

' not alone. ^ go oft amiss. ' A nickname of Satan.

^ perhaps. ' chance.

ter's Satur-
day Night.

1785-1790] THE CENTURY OF PROSE 193

Two of Burns's longer poems of contrasting character
are, next to his songs, his most famous works, — Tam
o Shanter and The Cotter s Saturday Night.
The first is one of the most fascinating poems o'Shantoi.
ever written. The good-for-nothing Tam, the '^'^°'
long-suffering, scolding wife, the night at the inn where
"ay the ale was growing better," the furious storm,
Tam's setting out for home " fou and unco happy," but
with prudent glances over his shoulder " lest bogles
catch him unawares," — these are all put before us,
sometimes with a touch of humor, sometimes with up-
roarious fun ; but always fascinating, always impossible
to read without a smile. ;

The second poem, The Cotters Saturday TheOot-
Night, is' a picture of the poet's own child
hood home on Saturday evening when — 1785.

The elder bairns come drapping in.
At service out, amang the farmers roun'.

Everything is simple and homely.

The mother, wi' her needle an' her sheers,

Gars ' auld claes ^ look amaist as weel 's the new ;
The father mixes a' wi' admonition due.

We can almost hear the knock of the bashful " neebor
lad" who has 'come to call on the oldest daughter. We
see them all sitting down to the porridge that forms
their supper. We watch the gray-haired father as he
takes the Bible, —

And " Let us worship God ! " he says with solemn air.

A Scotchman asked to read in public said, " Do not ask

me to give The Cotter s Saturday Night. A man should

read that on his knees as he would read his Bible."

' makes. '^ clothes.

194 ENGLAND'S LITERATURE [i 8th Cent.

Love of his childhood's home, love of country, love of
the right were in Burns's heart when he wrote —

From scenes like these old Scotia's grandeur springs,
That makes her lov'd at home, rever'd abroad.

Princes and lords are but the breath of kings,
" An honest man 's the noblest work of God."

The eighteenth century began and ended with poetry,
but it produced no poet of the first rank. It was the
age of prose, and it is famous for essayists, novelists,
writers on ethics and politics, and historians — a proud
record for one short century.

Century XVIII

THE CENTURY OF PROSE

Early prose writers : Artificial poet :

Joseph Addison. Alexander Pope.

Richard Steele.

Jonathan Swift. Writers on ethics and politics :

Samuel Johnson.
Forerunner of the novelists: Edmund B'urke.

Daniel Defoe.

Historians :
Novelists : William Robertson.

Samuel Richardson. David Hume.

Henry Fielding. Edward Gibbon.

Tobias Smollett.

Laurence Sterne. Romantic poets ;

Oliver Goldsmith (romantic Thomas Gray,

poet). Oliver Goldsmith.

Robert Burns.

SUMMARY

Coffee houses became important factors in literature.
Pope was the greatest poet of the first half of the century.
His influence for correctness, conciseness, and clearness has

l8thCent.] THE CENTURY OF PROSE IQS

never ceased to affect literature. Even his metre, the heroic
couplet, prevailed for many years.

The best prose writers of the early part of the century
were : —

1. Addison, who won political- success by a couplet.

2. Steele, who founded the Tatkr. These two men wrote
the best parts of the Tatkr, the Spectator, famous for the Sir
Roger de Coverky papers, and the Guardian ; and this was the
beginning of periodical literature.

3. Swift, the many-sided, was famous. for his bitter satire,
and the warmth of his friendship. His best known book is
Gulliver's Travels.

Defoe, too, was a many-sided man. His satire was written
with such apparent sincerity that it was more than once taken
in earnest. His best work is Robinson Crusoe.

The Age of Queen Anne as a whole was marked by the
development of literary criticism, by the excellence of its
prose, and by the beginning of the periodical.

In 1740 prose discovered a new field, the novel. The first,
Pamela, was written by Richardson. This was followed
by Fielding's jfoseph Andrews, Smolktfs Roderick Random,
Sterne's Tristram Sha?idy, and many others.

Between 1750 and 1780 the chief place of honor was held
by a man of powerful intellect, Johnson, who wrote Lizw oj
the Poets and many other works, compiled a dictionary, put
an end to " patronage " in literature, was famous for his con-
versational ability, and was the literary oracle of his day.
His life was written by his admirer Boswell.

One of Johnson's special friends was Oliver Goldsmith, to
whom the writing of children's books, history, novels, poetry,
and plays was equally easy and the results almost equally
excellent.

The period was also marked by the eloquence of Edmund
Burke, and by the work of three historians : Robertson, who
wrote of Scotland, Germany, and America ; Hume, who wrote
of England ; and Gibbon, who wrote of the Roman Em-
pire.

196 ENGLAND'S LITERATURE [i8th Cent.

The "romantic revival," a revolt against the artificial for-
mality of Pope, was increasing in power. It was marked by
three qualities : interest in man as man, love of nature, inde-
pendence of thought. This revolt was apparent in Gray's
Elegy and in Goldsmith's poems, was strengthened by the
appearance of Percy's Reliques, and was carried on by the
works of Cowper ; but its best manifestation was in the writ-
ings of Burns, who is famous for poems of such contrasting
character as his songs, Tarn O'Shanter, and The Cotter's Sat-
urday Night.

The eighteenth century is famous for poets, essayists, nov-
elists, writers on ethics and politics, and historians.

CHAPTER VIII

CENTURY XrX

THE CENTURY OF THE NOVEL

120. The " Lake Poets." The three qualities that
were so clearly manifested in the poetry of Burns,
namely, interest in man, love of nature, and impatience
of restraint, become even
more apparent in the writ- .
ings of the nineteenth
century. Individuality in-
creased. It is less easy to
label writers as belonging
to a certain " school."
The three poets of the
first of the century who
are usually classed together
as the "Lake School "have
little in common except
their friendship and the
fact that they lived in the
Lake Country. These

three were William Wordsworth, Samuel Taylor Cole-
ridge, and Robert Southey.

When Wordsworth was twenty-one he went to France
to study. Those were the Revolutionary days ; and the
young student sided with the Girondists so vig- wiiuam
orously that he would surely have fallen into ^^'
political trouble if his friends had not stopped 1770-186O.
his allowance in order to compel him to return. When

WILLIAM WORDSWORTH
I770-1850

198 ENGLAND'S LITERATURE [1791-1798

the Revolution became only a wild orgy of slaughter, he
was disappointed and doubtful of everything ; but his
beloved sister Dorothy came to live with him, and, as
he said, gave him an exquisite regard for common things
and preserved the poet in him.

After three or four years of quiet country life, a bril-
liant, sympathetic man became a visitor at the Words-
samuei worth cottage. This was Coleridge. He was
couiridge. ^ ™^^ who was interested in everything by
1772-1834. turns. His brain was full of visions and
schemes. He was in the army for a while. He planned
to found a model republic on the Susquehanna. He
was a wonderful talker on politics, philosophy, theology,
poetry — whatever came uppermost. Together he and
Wordsworth discussed,^ what ideal poetry should be.
Wordsworth believed that a poet should write on every-
day subjects in everyday language. Coleridge believed
that lofty or supernatural subjects might be so treated
as to seem simple and real.

121. Lyrical Ballads, 1798. The two men agreed
to bring out a little book, Lyrical Ballads, and go to
Germany with its proceeds ; and this was done. Cole-
ridge's chief contribution to the volume was The Rime of
TheHime the Ancient Mariner, that weird and marvellous
Ancient * ^'^^ °^ ^^^ Suffering that must follow an act not
Mariner. in loving accord with nature. This poem is
like the old ballads in its simplicity and directness, but
very unlike them in the fulness of its harmony. Cole-
ridge was a master of sound. Here is his sound picture
of a brook : —

A noise like of a hidden brook
In the leafy month of June,
That to the sleeping woods all night
Singeth a quiet tune.

1798] THE CENTURY OF THE NOVEL I99

The breaking up of the ice is thus described : —

It cracked and growled, and roared and howled,
Like noises in a swound.

The similes of the poem are of the kind that not only
adorn a statement but illuminate it ; the mariner passes,
" like night," from land to land. The vessel in a calm is

As idle as a painted ship
Upon a painted ocean.

Wordsworth's contributions to the book were many,
and of widely differing value. When he remembered
his theories, he was capable of such stuff as —

But yet I guess that now and then
With Betty all was not so well ;
And to the road she turns her ears.
And thence full many a sound she hears.
Which she to Susan will not tell.

Here, too, was his We are Seven. The treatment is
quite as simple as in the preceding poem ; but while the
first seems like the awkward attempt of a man •vveare
to be childlike, the simplicity of the second is seven,
appropriate because the poem is a conversation with a
child. In this same volume was the beautiful irintem
Tintern Abbey, wherein all theories were for- Aiiiiey.
gotten. It is hardly colloquial language when the author
says, —

The sounding cataract
Haunted me like a passion;

or when he bids —

Therefore let the moon
Shine on thee in thy solitary walks ;
And let the misty mountain-wind be free
To blow against thee.

122. Robert Southey, 1774-1843. After their visit
to Germany, both poets settled in the Lake Country.

200 ENGLAND'S LITERATURE [1797-1813

Near them was the home of the poet Southey, who had
been one of Coleridge's converts to the Susquehanna
scheme.

These were the three who were best known as poets
when the nineteenth century began. Southey wrote
The cnise weird, Strange epics : The Curse of Kehama, a
oi Kehama. Hindoo tale, and Thalaba, the story of a young
Tiaiaba. Arabian who sets out to avenge his father.
^^°^- Southey was always attracted by the strange

and distant ; and yet he took delight in the simplest
things, and made the best of whatever came. In 181 3
he was chosen Laureate ; but only a few years later he
discovered that the public did not care for moi"e poetry
from him, and he said with the utmost composure, " I
have done enough to be remembered among poets, though
my proper place will be among the historians, if I live to
complete the works upon yonder shelves." For twenty
years longer Southey worked industriously on prose. He
LifeoiNei- wrote histories and biographies, an excellent
son. 1813. ijfg of Nelson among the latter. Here was his
true field, for his prose is charmingly clear and sturdy ;
and while making no apparent attempt at formal descrip-
tion, he nevertheless contrives to leave a strongly out-
lined picture in the mind of the reader.

123. Coleridge's best work. Coleridge's best poetry
was written about the time of the publication of Lyrical
Chiistabei. Ballads. It was then that he composed Chris-
1797-1800. tabel, the mystic tale of the innocent maiden
who is enthralled by the power of magic. Then, too, he
Kubia wrote the dazzling fragment, Kubla Khan, part

Khan. of a poem which, he said, came to him while he

1797

slept. The rest of it was driven from his mem-
ory by an interruption. Whatever Coleridge touched
with his poetic gift was rich and splendid ; but nearly

1797-1834] THE CENTURY OF THE NOVEL 20I

everything was incomplete. So it was in prose. No
one can read a single page of his writings without real-
izing that their author was a man of deep and original
thought and of rarely equalled ability ; and yet mcom-
here, too, all was unfinished. Coleridge said piotonoaa.
that he trembled at the thought of the question, " I gave
thee so many talents ; what hast thou done with them .? "

SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE
1772-1834

His excuse was a certain weakness of the will. This was
increased by the use of opium, which he began to take
to quiet pain, and which was for many years his tyrant.
This great man, who influenced every one that heard
him speak or that read his written words, was utterly
without ability to command his own powers, to govern
his own mind. He has left little save fragments, — but
they are magnificent fragments.

202 ENGLAND'S LITERATURE [1802-1830

124. Wordsworth's life. Wordsworth's life was
quite unlike that of Coleridge. He married in 1802,
and, as he said, was " conscious of blessedness " in his
marriage. A sum of money which had been due to his
father was at last paid to him, and he lived on happily
and tranquilly in his beloved Lake Country, -making
many trips abroad or to different parts of the British
Isles. He was a keen lover of beauty, but the beauty of
nature rather than that of art. He fell asleep before the
Venus de Medici, but he wrote one of his best sonnets
on the beach at Calais. His finest poems were written
during the early years of the century.

Appreciation was slow in finding Wordsworth, partly
because first Scott and then Byron were coming before
the public, and there was nothing in Wordsworth's writ-
siow appro- ings to arouse the wild enthusiasm with which
Words-"' people welcomed their productions. Another
woith. reason was that Wordsworth's utter lack of
humor permitted him in pursuit of his theories to put
absurd doggerel into poems that were otherwise fine.
The critics ridiculed the doggerel and passed by what
was really worthy. " Heed not such onset," the poet
said to himself, and serenely continued to write. Slowly
one after another began to see that no one else could
describe the every-day sights of nature like Wordsworth,
or could interpret so well the feelings that they aroused
in one who loved them. Other poets could write of tem-
pests and crags and precipices ; but Wordsworth alone
could picture a "common day" and an "ordinary"
landscape. He could do more than picture; he could
make the reader feel that in nature was a mysterious
life, the thought of its Creator, half expressed and half
revealed. Long before 1830 Scott had ceased to write
poetry, Byron and Shelley and Keats were dead. Men

1800-1842] THE CENTURY OF THE NOVEL 203

began to turn back a score of years, to see that in Words-
worth's poems there was an excellence that odeonthe
they had overlooked. They passed by the imbe- intimations
cilities of Peter Bell, they read the charming taiity.
little daffodil poem, they began to appreciate }^^^-
the grandeur of the Ode on the Intimations of Immor-
tality, with its magnificent sweep of poetry : —

There was a time when meadow, grove, and stream,
The earth, and every common sight,
To me did seem
Apparelled in celestial light,
The glory and the freshness of a dream.

Little by little Wordsworth's noble office was recog-
nized, and he was known as the faithful interpreter of na-
ture and of God in nature. In 1842 a complete edition
of his works was called for. On the death of Southey
during the following year, he was made Laureate with
the good-will of all lovers of true poetry.

Those first thirty years of the century were glorious
times for literature. Besides the Lake Poets, there
were the romantic writers, Scott and Byron ; the lovers
of beauty, Shelley and Keats ; the essayists, Charles
Lamb and De Quincey ; the magazine critics ; and the
realist, Jane Austen.

125. Walter Scott, 1771-1832. The first that we
know of Walter Scott, he ^yas a little lame, sickly child
who had been sent away from Edinburgh to his grand-
father's farm in the hope that he might grow stronger.
Fortunately for all that love a good story, this hope was
realized, and it was not long before he was galloping
wherever a pony could carry him and scrambling wher-
ever the pony could not go. The two things that he
liked best were this wild roaming over the country and
listening to the old ballads and legends that his grand-

204

ENGLAND'S LITERATURE [1799-1805

Boyhood.

mother recited to him by the score. When he was
older, he was sent to school in Edinburgh. He
was not the leader of his class by any means ;

but out of school there was not a boy who would not

gladly follow him to
some wild, romantic
spot to listen to his
stories of the bor-
der warfare. One day
he came across a
book half a century
old which delighted
his heart. It was
Bishop Percy's Re-
liques. This was hap-
piness. The hungry
schoolboy forgot his
dinner and lay out
under the trees read-
ing over and over
again of Douglas and
Percy and Robin
Hood and Sir Patrick
Spens. This book
settled the question

of what his life-work should be, though it was some years

before he found his place.

After leaving the university he studied law and was

admitted to the bar. He married, held various public

offices, and was financially comfortable. In 1799, when
he was twenty-eight, he made his first appear-

st. John. ance in literature with some translations from
German poetry. A little later he wrote a border

ballad, The Eve of St. John. Great numbers of border

SIR WALTER SCOTT
1771-1832

iSo8-i8i2] THE CENTURY OF THE NOVEL 205

ballads were still remembered, though they had never
been put into print. Scott determined to collect these,
and somewhat in the^ fashion of Fuller, he roamed over
the country, taking down every scrap of the old balladry,
every bit of legend that he could get from any one who
chanced to remember the ancient lore. In 1802 he pub-
lished Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border, and ^ ^
in 1805, The Lay of the Last Minstrel. Then oithosoot-
there was enthusiasm indeed. Men had wan- ^^^ /goa.
dered into distant lands for the new, the The Lay of

. , , ^ the Last

strange, the romantic ; but the Lay revealed MinstreL
their own country as its home. Here was a ^^''^•
poem which was song, description, dialogue, legend, su-
perstition, chivalry, every-day life, — and all blended into
a story told by an ideal story-teller. Scott's listeners
were as intent as those of his schooldays had been.
There was no more thought of courts and law books.
The teller of stories had found his place. He planned a
romantic novel, but laid it aside. During the next three
years he edited various works, and in the third year he
published Marmion. Large sums of money Majmion.
were coming in from his poems and also from isos.
the publishing business, in which he had engaged with
some old school friends, and he was free to carry out his
dearest wish, to buy the estate of Abbotsford and become
one of the "landed gentry."

126. Scott abandons poetry. In 18 1 2, the year of
his removal to Abbotsford, Childe Harold, a brilliant
poem in a new vein, came out, written by Lord Byron.
The crowd had found a new idol, and Scott's next poem,
published the following year, had much smaller sales
than his previous works. Scott brought out another
poem, but evidently the fickle public did not care for
more of his poetry, and he began to think about the ro-

206 ENGLAND'S LITERATURE [1814-1831

mance which he had planned several years earlier. The
waveiiey. result of this thinking was that in 18 14 the
1814. reading world went wild with delight over Wa-

verley, by an unknown writer ; for Scott, no one knows
just why, did not wish to be known as its author. Story
after story followed, — one, two, even three, in a single
year. " Walter Scott is the only man in the land who
could write them," was the general belief ; but the secret
was kept for some time.

Scott was happy in his home. Abbotsford was the

very hearthstone of Scotland for a joyous hospitality.

Great folk and little folk, rich and poor, lords

AhSOtSfOia. , , ,. . -r ■ ,

and ladies, scientific men, artists, authors, ad-
mirers from across the sea, old school friends, relatives
even to the twentieth degree — they were all welcomed
to Abbotsford. Sir Walter — for George IV had made
him a baronet — usually worked three or four hours be-
fore breakfast, which was between nine and ten, and per-
haps two hours afterwards ; but when noon had come,
he was ready for any kind of amusement, provided it was
out of doors, — a long walk or ride with his pet dogs,
hunting or fishing, or whatever might suggest itself.

It is a pity that this happy life should have been
clouded; but in 1826 the publishers with whom Scott
Failure oi was connected failed. The romancer might
puhUshers. easily have freed himself from all claims; but
instead he quietly set to work to pay with his pen the
^650,000 that was due. Novels, histories, a nine-volume
life of Bonaparte, editorial work, translations, were un-
dertaken in rapid succession. Paralysis attacked him ;
still he struggled on. In 1831 the government loaned
him a frigate to carry him to Italy for rest and change.

The might
Of the whole world's good wishes with him goes,

1807-1832] THE CENTURY OF THE NOVEL 207

wrote Wordsworth ; but rest had come too late. In 1832
he returned to Abbotsford, and there he died. "Time
and I against any two," he had said bravely when he
took the enormous debt upon himself. Time had failed
him, but he had paid more than half, and the royalties
on his books finally paid the rest.

Scott's best work was his Scottish romances, wherein
he aimed chiefly at telling a romantic story and laid the
scene in the past in order to add to the roman- ihehistor-
tic effect. In such stories as Kenilworth, how- ioainoTei.
ever, he shows himself the real inventor of the historical
novel, that fascinating combination of old and new, of
customs and manners that are strange practised by men
and women with loves and hates and instincts like our
own. His power lies, first, in his knowledge of the past,
a knowledge so full and so ready that of whatever age
he wrote he seemed to be in his own time ; second, in
his imagination, his ability to invent incidents and pic-
ture scenes ; third, in his power of humorous perception
and characterization, especially in Scottish characters.
There have been more profound students than Scott,
and there have been better makers of plots ; but no
man, either before or after him, has ever combined such
familiarity with the past and such ability to tell a story.

127. Lord Byron, 1788-1824. George Gordon, Lord
Byron, whose Childe Harold brought Scott's narrative
poetry to an end, was the son of a worthless profligate
and a mother who sometimes petted him, sometimes
abused him, and was capable of flying into storms of
anger at a moment's warning. He was so sensitive
about his lameness that as a tiny child he struck Hours of
fiercely with his whip at a visitor who ventured idleness.

1&07

to express some pity for him. When he was

ten years of age, he became Lord Byron, and was so

2o8 ENGLAND'S LITERATURE [1807-1818

fond of alluding to his rank that the schoolboys called
him "the old Enghsh baron." At nineteen he published
English his first book of poems, Hours of Idleness. It
Baidsand ^as only a boy's work, but the position of this
viewers."' boy made it conspicuous, and the Edinburgh
1809. critics reviewed it sharply. Byron was angry,

and two years later he blazed out with English Bards
and Scotch Reviewers, wherein he not only attacked the
reviewers, with his scornful couplet, —

A man must serve his time to every trade
Save censure — critics all are ready made, —

but struck fiercely at his innocent fellow authors. Words-
worth he pronounced an idiot, Coleridge the laureate of
asses, Scott a maker of stale romance, and the mighty
Jeffrey, writer of the article, he declared to be " the
great literary anthropophagus." His own critical judg-
ments were of small value, and he was afterwards exceed-
ingly sorry for his foolish lines ; but evidently this boy
was not to be suppressed even by the great folk of the
Edinburgh Review.

Byron went abroad, and in 181 2 he produced the first
part of Childe Harold's Pilgrimage, and then, he
omide said, " I awoke one morning and found myself
Pilgrimage famous." He continued to write. Scott's Lay
1812-1818. of the Last Minstrel and Marmion began to
seem tame when compared with the turbulent charac-
ters and the novel manners of the 'East, where most of
Byron's scenes were laid. England and the Continent
bowed down before this new genius. He married, but
soon his wife left him, giving no reason for her deser-
tion. Public sympathy was with her, and Byron became
a wanderer, tossing back to England poems of scorn and
satire and affection and pathos ; sometimes living simply

1813-1824] THE CENTURY OF THE NOVEL 209

and quietly, sometimes sinking to the depths of dissipa-
tion ; in his writings sometimes low and vulgar, but al-
ways brilliant. He wrote wild, romantic tales irhoBrido
in poetry, — The Bride of Abydos, The Corsair, oiASydos.
and others ; he wrote equally wild and lurid TheCoi-
dramas ; and, last of all, Don yuan, the story ^^- ^^^*-
of a VICIOUS man and his life ; often revolting, 1819-
but, as Scott said, containing "exquisite morsels ■^*^*'
of poetry." Byron was capable of tender sympathy
with suffering and warm appreciation of heroism, as he
shows in The Prisoner of Chillon; but, as a TiiePris-
general thing, there were but two subjects that c^°„_
interested him deeply, himself and nature. His 18I6.
poems have one and the same hero, a cynical young
man, weary of life, scornful and melancholy. This is
the poet"s somewhat theatrical notion of himself. He
once objected to a bust of himself on the ground that
the expression was "not unhappy enough." There is
nothing theatrical, however, about his love of nature
when he writes such lines as —

The big rain comes dancing to the earth.

Oh, night
And storm and darkness, ye are wondrous strong.
Yet lovely in your strength.

This stormy cynic could also write, and with most ex-
quisite tlelicacy of touch, of a quiet summer evening : —

It is the hush of night, and all between

Thy margin and the mountains, dusk, yet clear,

Mellow'd and mingling, yet distinctly seen.

Save darken'd Jura, whose capt heights appear

Precipitously steep ; and drawing near,

There breathes a living fragrance from the shore,

Of flowers yet fresh with childhood ; on the ear

Drops the light drip of the suspended oar,

Or chirps the grasshopper one good-night carol more.

2IO ENGLAND'S LITERATURE [1792-1823

In 1823 the Greeks were struggling to win their free-
dom from the Turks. Byron determined to play a part
in the war, and set out for Missolonghi. The misan-
thropic poet suddenly became the practical commander ;
but before he could take the iield, he died of fever at the
age of thirty-six.

128. Percy Bysshe Shelley, 1792-1822. The works
of two poets of this time, Percy Bysshe Shelley and John
Keats, are so strongly marked by their love of beauty
and their ability to express it as to separate them from
the others. Shelley's whole life was a revolt against
restraint. After five months at Oxford he wrote a pam-
phlet against the Christian religion, and was promptly
expelled. At nineteen he married a young girl, three
years his junior, because he thought she was tyran-
nized over in being required to obey the rules of her
school.

Shelley loved the world, and he longed to have all
things pure and beautiful ; but he fancied that the one
change needed to bring about this state of purity and
beauty was to abolish the laws and the religion in which
men believed. It is hard for ordinary mortals to under-
stand his way of looking at matters ; but those who
prometiieus knew him best were convinced of his honesty.
Unbound. Prometheus Unbound is one of his best lone

1820

poems. He pictures the hero as rebelling
against the gods, indeed, but as loving man. The longer
The Cloud works are very beautiful, but there are three

or four of his shorter poems that every one
loves. One is The Cloud, beginning, —

I bring fresh showers for the thirsting flowers,

From the seas and the streams ;
I bring light shade for the leaves when laid

In their noonday dreams.

1819-1822] THE CENTURY OF THE NOVEL 211

Another favorite is his Ode to the West Wind, oiie'o'ii*

. West wind,

and yet another is To a Skylark : — To a sty-

laik.
Hail to thee, blithe spirit —

Bird thou never wert —
That from heaven or near it
Pourest thy full heart
In profuse strains of unpremeditated art.

There is a wonderful upspringing in this poem ; it
hardly seems to touch the ground, but to be made of
light and music. In even so earthly a simile as his com-
parison between the lark and a glow-worm, he lightens
and lifts it by a single word : —

Like a glow-worm golden

In a dell of dew,
Scattering unbeholden

Its aerial hue
Among the flowers and grass which screen it from the view.

Another simile which surely would never have come to
the mind of any one but Shelley, or perhaps Donne, was,

Like a poet hidden

In the light of thought,
Singing hymns unbidden,

Till the world ^s wrought
To sympathy with hopes and fears it heeded not.

Shelley was drowned while yachting in the Bay of
Spezzia. The quarantine law required that his body-
should be burned, and this was done in the presence of
Byron and two other friends. His ashes were laid in the
little Protestant burying-ground at Rome, not far from
Keats, who had died only a year before. It was in grief
for the loss of Keats that he had written his lament,
Adonais, in which he had said of the poet, —

Peace, peace ! he is not dead, he doth not sleep !
He hath awakened from the dream of life.

212 ENGLAND'S LITERATURE [1795-1821

A little volume of Keats's poems was with Shelley on
the yacht and was washed up with his body.

129. John Keats, 1795-1821. For Keats life was
not easy, though he had nothing in him of revolt against
the established order of things. At school he was a
great favorite and also a great fighter. A small thing
made him happy and a small thing made him miserable.

JOHN KEATS
I795-1S2I

At fifteen he was apprenticed to a London surgeon ;
but long before then he had begun to dream golden
dreams of what had been when the world was younger.
His inspiration came from the past, from the Middle
Ages as drawn by Spenser, and from the graceful fan-
cies and depths of the Greek mythology.

i8i8-l82i] THE CENTURY OF THE NOVEL 213

In 1818, when he was twenty-three years of age,
Keats published his Endymion. It was sav- Endymion.
agely criticised by the Quarterly Review and ^*^8-
Blackwood' s Edinburgh Magazine, but the young poet
was not to be suppressed. He made no bitter reply,
as Byron had done, but he quietly wrote on, and two
years later published some of his best work.
Here were The Eve of St. Agnes, Lamia, and Agnes, La-
others of his longer poems, absolutely over- ™'*'^ ^ '
flowing with beauty and glowing with light and color : —

Rose-bloom fell on her hands, together prest,
And on her silver cross soft amethyst,
And on her hair a glory like a saint.

If all Keats's poems but one were to be destroyed,
most of those who love him would choose the „. .

Ode to a

Ode to a Grecian Urn to be saved. This poem Grecian
is silver-clear, there is not a touch of color. ™'
About the urn is a graceful course of youths and maid-
ens and gods with pipes and timbrels and leafy boughs.
The poet writes : —

Heard melodies are sweet, but those unheard

Are sweeter ; therefore, ye soft pipes, play on ;
Not to the sensual ear, but, more endeared,

Pipe to the spirit ditties of no tone ;
Fair youth, beneath the trees, thou canst not leave

Thy song, nor ever can those trees be bare ;
Bold Lover, never, never canst thou kiss,
Though winning near the goal — yet, do not grieve ;
She cannot fade, though thou hast not thy bliss,

For ever wilt thou love, and she be fair.

Keats was only twenty-four when he died, in Italy,
where he had gone in the hope of saving his life. His
ideals were so high that he felt as if what he had done
was nothing. "If I should die," he said, "I have left

214 ENGLAND'S LITERATUR [i775-i834

no immortal work behind me ; " but the lovers of poetry
have thought otherwise and have ranked him among the
first of those who have loved beauty and have created it.

130. Charles Lamb, 1775-1834. While Keats and
Shelley were in Italy, while Byron and Scott were at the
height of their literary glory, while Wordsworth and
Southey and Coleridge were revelling in the beauties of
the Lake Country, Charles Lamb, the most charming of
essayists, was adding and subtracting at his desk in the
East India House, until, as he said, the wood had entered
into his soul.

When Lamb was a little boy, he was sent to the Blue-
Coat School. He longed to go on to the university, but
his aid was needed at home. A few years later his sis-
ter Mary, in a sudden attack of insanity, killed her mo-
ther. The young man of twenty-one, with some literary
ambition and a keen appetite for enjoyment, bravely laid
aside his own wishes, reckoned up his little income of
;£i20 a year, and took upon him the care of his father
and his sister. Mary Lamb recovered, but as the years
went on, attacks came with increasing frequency. Yet
it was not, save for this constant dread, an unhappy life
for either of them. There was never money enough for
thoughtless expenditure, but there was enough for their
Lamb's simple way of living. Their circle of friends
blends. widened ; and what a company it was that used
to meet in those little brown rooms ! There were
Wordsworth, Coleridge, Southey, Leigh Hunt, De Quin-
cey, and others without number. There was the sister
Mary in her gray silk gown and white muslin kerchief
and quaintly frilled cap. Every one of that brilliant
company respected and admired her, valued her opinion,
and never failed of her sympathy. In the midst of them
all was Charles Lamb, seeing nothing but good in every

1796-1807] THE CENTURY OF THE NOVEL 215

one of them, often pouring out the wildest fun, but al-
ways mindful of his sister, lest too eager a discussion or
a jest too many might lead on to an attack of insanity.
It was when she was " ill," as he tenderly phrased it,
that he planned to dedicate to her his little volume of

CHARLES LAMB

1 775-1834

poems, because, as he said, people living together " get
a sort of indifference in the expression of kindness for
each other."

The best of his time and strength went to the endless
adding and' subtracting, but the evenings were often
given to writing, so far as the friends would permit. " I

2l6 ENGLAND'S LITERATURE [i797-i833

am never C. L.," Lamb groaned half in jest and half in
earnest, "but always C. L. and Co." Yet in the work
done in these fragments of his life he has left us a rich
legacy. For ten years, from 1797 to 1807, his pen at-
Tie Old tempted all sorts of things. He wrote several
Faces'" poems, among them The Old Familiar Faces,
1798. with its depth of tender affection and longing ;

and Hester, most graceful of all memorials. He wrote a
story or two ; he was actually under agreement
written to provide six witty paragraphs a day for one
"°^' of the papers ; he wrote prologues and epi-

logues for his friends' plays, and finally he wrote a play
of his own. It was acted ; but it was such an evident
failure that the author himself, sitting far up in front,
hissed it louder than any one else.

In 1807, the Tales from Shakespeare came out, and
that was a success. Mary wrote the comedies and
Tales from Charles the tragedies, "groaning all the while,"
speue' ^^'^ sister said, " and saying he can make no-

1807. thing of it, which he always says till he has fin-
ished, and then he finds out he has made something of it."

During the following year he published Specimens of
Dramatic Poets Contemporary with Shakespeare. Here
he gives, as he says, " sometimes a scene, some-
oJDramaUo times a song, a speech, or a passage, or a poeti-
temporary cal image, as they happened to strike me," —
Shake- ^^^ ^° know how they struck the mind of
apeare. Charles Lamb is the delightful part of it, for

1808. , , ,. , ,

no one else has ever gone so directly to the
heart of a play as this unassuming clerk of the East In-
Essaysoi ^^'^ House — and then he talks a little in a
Ella. 1822- friendly, informal way. His crowning work is
Essays. the Essays of Elia, short, delightful little chats
"*^' about whatever came into his mind. He writes

1825-1859] THE CENTURY OF THE NOVEL 21/

about the Blue-Coat School in the days of his boyhood,
about Witches and Other Night Fears ; he muses about
Dream Children; he complains whimsically of the Z*^-
cay of Beggars in the Metropolis ; he presents with a
merry mockery of profound learning a grave Dissertation
upon Roast Pig ; and describes with pathetic humor the
feelings of The Stiperannuated Man who after many
years of faithful work is given a pension by his employ-
ers, and is at liberty to live his own life. This was a
page from Lamb's experience, for in 1825 his employers
gave him a generous pension, and at last he was free.
This is what he says of his freedom : —

" I have indeed lived nominally fifty years, but deduct
out of them the hours which I have lived to other peo-
ple, and not to myself, and you will find me still
a young fellow. For that is the only true Time,
which a man can properly call his own — that which he
has all to himself ; the rest, though in some sense he
may be said to live it, is other people's Time, not his.
The remnant of my poor days, long or short, is at least
multiplied for me threefold. My ten next years, if I
stretch so far, will be as long as any preceding thirty.
'T is a fair rule-of-three sum. ... I hav,e worked task-
work and have all the rest of the day to myself." The
" rest of the day " was short, for after only nine years of
freedom, the most genial, deHcate, charming of humor-
ists passed away.

131. Thomas De Quincey, 1785-1859. ''Charming"
is the word that best describes the essays of Charles
Lamb, but "fascinating" ought always to be saved for
those of Thomas De Quincey. The man himself is in-
tensely interesting. As a boy he was a great favorite
with the other boys because of his never-failing good-
nature and his willingness to help them with their les-

2l8 ENGLAND'S LITERATURE [1800-1821

sons; and with the teachers because he was such a
brilhant scholar. When he was fifteen, he could chatter
away in Greek as easily as in English. Two years later
he went on a ramble to Wales, then slipped away to
London, and came near dying of starvation. After being
at Oxford, he visited Wordsworth. They became friends
and were neighbors for twenty-seven years. Whoever
met De Quincey was delighted with him. To the Words-
worth children he was their beloved " Kinsey," and he
was equally dear to John Wilson, who was to become
the great " Christopher North " of Blackwood's Maga-
zine. He was always ready to join in any light chat, but
if left to himself, he had a fashion of gliding away in
his talk to all sorts of profound and mysterious themes
which only he knew how to make delightful.

During those years in the Lake Country too great
generosity and the failures of others had lessened his
First ut- little fortune. He had a wife and children to
erarywort. support, and he began to write for the maga-
zines ; he even edited a local newspaper at a salary of
one guinea a week. In 1821 he went to London. He
was thirty-six years old, older than Byron or Shelley or
Keats had been when their fame was secure ; but with
De Quincey there had been for seventeen years an
enemy at court in the shape of opium, which among
other efifects weakened his will so that only the pres-
sure of necessity could drive him to action. The neces-
sity had come. Charles Lamb was writing his essays
for the London Magazine, and he introduced De Quin-
cey to the editors. Not long after this introduction the
Confessions readers of the Magazine were deeply interested
ifsh^op^nm- by ^'^ article called Confessions of an English
Eator.1821. Opium-Eater. It might well arouse interest, for
it was a thrilling account of the experiences that come

1821-1837] THE CENTURY OF THE NOVEL 219

from the use of opium. It sounded so honest that the
critics were half decided that it must be a work of im-
agination. This was the real beginning of the one hun-
dred and fifty magazine articles written by De Quincey.
Sorrows came upon him. His wife and two of his

THOMAS DE QUINCEY
I785-1859

sons died, and he was helpless. In all practical matters
he was the most ignorant of men. With a large jjg f^^^_
draft in his pocket, he once lived for a number oey's help-
of days in the cheapest lodgings he could find,
because he did not know that the draft, payable in

220 ENGLAND'S LITERATURE [1827-1837

twenty-one days, could be cashed at once. Now with six
motherless children, he was more of a child than any of
them. His oldest daughter quietly planned for him to
have a home at Lasswade, near Edinburgh, and there he
was loved and cared for. Caring for this gentle, erratic
man must have been somewhat of a"worriment," for he
was quite capable of slipping out in the evening for a
walk, lying down under a tree or a hedge, and sleeping
calmly all night long. His books and papers accumu-
lated like drifts in a snowstorrri, and only his daughter's
gentle control prevented him from filling room after
room with them, and so driving the family out of doors.
Two of his best-known essays are The Flight of a
Tartar Tribe and Murder Considered as One of the Fine
TtePiigM Arts. The inspiration of the first seems to have
Trite'"*" been a few sentences in a missionary report.
1837. From these and his own wide reading, he made

the flight of the Tartars across Asia as vivid as any
actual journey of his readers. The second essay is writ-
ten with a delightful air of mock gravity, and with verify-
ing quotations from various languages. He declares his
Mnider ^"^""^ belief " that any man who deals in murder,
Oonsiaerefl must have very incorrect ways of thinking, and
the Pino truly inaccurate principles." In a later article
Arts. he carries his jest further and declares that " If

1827

once a man indulges himself in murder, very
soon he comes to think little of robbing ; and from rob-
bing he comes next to drinking and Sabbath-breaking,
and from that to incivility and procrastination. Once
begin upon this downward path, you never know where
you are to stop. Many a man has dated his ruin from
some murder or other that perhaps he thought little of
at the time."

So De Quincey goes on. He can be dreamy and gentle.

i8o3-i8i7] THE CENTURY OF THE NOVEL 221

strikingly vivid, or whimsical, or he can give a plain,
straightforward narrative, and in every case adapt his
style perfectly to the mood of the hour. His published
works fill sixteen volumes, "full of brain from beginning
to end."

132. The Reviews. Almost all of De Quincey's
work was done for some one of the magazines that were
established in the first twenty years of the century. The
earliest was the Edinburgh Review. It began in 1 802 with
very decided principles. One was that articles must be
written by men of standing ; second, that they must be
paid for ; third, that reviews and criticisms „,, ^ ^
should be absolutely independent. Francis Jef- Review,
frey soon became its editor, and was its ruling ^®°^"
spirit for a quarter of a century. This magazine was so
strongly Whiggish in tone that an opposition Tory maga-
zine, the Quarterly Review, was soon founded. „ _ ,

> ^ -^ ' Quarterly

Then came Blackwood' s Magazine, whose great Heview.
man was John Wilson, or " Christopher North." ^^''®'
These periodicals were so partisan and so bent upon
being " independent " that many authors, like Keats and
Wordsworth, suffered most unfairly at their Biaok-
hands ; but, however hard their reviews were JJa" a'*ino
for individual writers, they were certainly good 1817.
for literature, for the very savageness of their criticism
aroused discussion and interest in literary matters.

133. Jane Austen, 1775-1817. In the midst of the
poems and romances and essays and reviews, the novel
of home hfe held a little place, but an important one.
Immediately after the days of Richardson, Fielding, and
Smollett, there was much story-writing, but these stories
were generally romances. The best and almost the only
real novels of the earliest years of the nineteenth (jen-
tury were written by a young girl named Jane Austen,

222 ENGLAND'S LITERATURE [1811-1817

who lived in a quiet village rectory. In 1 796, when she
was twenty-one, she wrote Pride and Prejudice, and
Piiae and during the next few years several other works
puwishea followed. She kept her authorship a secret,
1813. and, indeed, did not publish a book until 181 1,

three years before the coming out of Waverley.

In some ways, these novels of the beginning of the
century are very different from those written at its end.
For one thing, Miss Austen often tells in long conver-
sations what in later books is expressed by a hint. Her
pictures give the minutest details of thought and feeling

and action. In Emma, for instance, it requires
puwisiea several pages to make it clear that an elderly
1816. . gentleman is afraid of a drive through the snow,
but finally decides to attempt it. The same character in
a later novel would glance anxiously out of the window
and order his carriage. Miss Austen had a keen but
most delicate sense of humor. In her own line she was
almost as much of a realist as Defoe. She has a fashion

of choosing several characters so nearly alike
ton's excel- that we feel sure she "can make nothing of
lence. j^. . » ^^j. j^^ j^^^. ^^j^.^ ^j description and her

long conversations characteristics come out amazingly
well; and suddenly we realize that she "has made some-
thing of it," that these monotonous people who seemed
to have been created by the dozen have become thor-
oughly real and individual and interesting. Miss Austen
died in 1817. The romantic poetry of Byron and what
Scott called "the big bow-wow strain " of his own novels
were filling the minds of readers, and it was not until
long after her death that her work received the attention
and admiration that it deserved.

Occasionally in the history of literature we come to
what seems a natural boundary. Such a boundary was

1832] THE CENTURY OF THE NOVEL 223

reached in 1832. Before the close of that year, Byron,
Shelley, Keats, and Scott were dead ; the literary work
of Lamb and Coleridge was practically com- iteyear
plete ; Wordsworth wrote little more that was of i832.
value ; only De Quincey and Southey were still active.
The condition of the country was rapidly changing. In
political history, too, 1832 was a natural boundary, for in
that year a Reform Bill was passed, giving for the first
time to many thousand people in England the right to
be represented in Parliament. Education became more
general, not only the education of schools, but that of
books and papers. Books became cheaper, the circula-
tion of papers increased. Cheap magazines were estab-
lished. Scientific discoveries and inventions overthrew
former ways of living and working and forced people to
think, whether they would or not. The audience makes
the author, and the author makes the audience. The
half-century following 1832 was to see — among other
marks of literary progress — a remarkable development
of the novel, the essay, and the poem.

The three novelists of the Victorian Age whose writ-
ings are looked upon as modern classics are Charles
Dickens, William Makepeace Thackeray, and Mary Ann
Evans Cross, or " George Eliot."

134. Charles Dickens, 1812-1870. The first nin6
years of Charles Dickens's life were very, happy ; but
his father's salary was cut down, and before long he was
imprisoned for debt. The rest of the family established
themselves in the prison, and there the little boy spent
his Sundays. Through the week he was left to work
all day in a cellar and spend his nights in an attic. It is
no wonder that throughout his life he had deep sym-
pathy for lonely children. After a while came a few
years of prosperity, and the boy was sent to school.

224 ENGLAND'S LITERATURE [1829-1850

His father became a parliamentary reporter for one of
the papers; and when Charles was seventeen, he set out
to learn shorthand. He was wise enough to realize that
a good reporter must know much more than shorthand ;

and he read, read hard
hour after hour, when-
ever he had the hours.
There were two
things that the young
man liked to do better
than all else. One
was to act and the
other was to write ;
and one day he was
too happy to keep the
tears from his eyes,
iox the Monthly Maga-
zine had published a
paper of his, known
afterwards as Mr.
Minns and his Cousin
in Sketches by Bos. "Boz" was his little sister's pronun-
ciation of Moses, a nickname which Charles had given to
his brother in memory of "Moses" in The Vicar of
Wakefield. Other sketches followed. By and by they
came out in book form. Then a publishing firm asked
Pickwick if he would write a series of humorous articles.
He agreed, and this was the origin of the
Pickwick Papers. Dickens was now twenty-
his fame and his bank account were increasing
rapidly. The following year he wrote Oliver
Twist, and his other novels appeared in quick
succession. He edited several periodicals, he
wrote sketches of travel, and in 1850 he published

CHARLES DICKENS
1812-1870

Papers,

1836-

1837.

five ;

Oliver
Twist.
1838.

1850] THE CENTURY OF THE NOVEL 225

David Copperfield, the work that he loved best, and a
book that those who love its author cannot help find-
ing most pathetic in the pictures that it gives Daviacop-
of his own younger days. For twenty years perflau-
longer his work went on. The public were
more and more charmed with each story ; and well they
might have been, for every page was sparkling with
merriment or throbbing with a pathos that came so
straight from the writer's. own heart that it could not
fail to move his readers. When his characters blunder,
they blunder delightfully. When they are sad, we sym-
pathize with them ; but when they are merry, then comes
a full tide of rollicking fun that " doeth good like a
medicine."

Dickens never seemed happier than when he was
acting in amateur theatricals. This taste is evident in
his novels. They often lack the drama's completeness
of plot, but many of the characters have a touch of
"make-up" which sometimes gives the reader a sense
of their unreality, a feeling that they are figures on a
stage rather than real men and women. Moreover,
Dickens almost always fixes upon some special trick of
expression or some one prominent quality, and by it he
labels the character. Uriah Heep is always Method of
"'umble," Mr. Micawber is always "waiting oaricatiure.
for something to turn up." This is not character draw-
ing; it is caricature. Nevertheless, no one who reads
Dickens can help being grateful to the man whose work
not only gives us amusement but is all aglow with good
will and kindliness.

Dickens was an intense and constant worker. " I am
become incapable of rest," he said. Not only moijejis j,
did he do a vast amount of work, but he threw aworner.
his whole self into every book. Little Nell was so real

226 ENGLAND'S LITERATURE [1811-1848

to her creator that after writing of her death, he walked
the streets of London all night, feeling as if he had
really lost a beloved child friend. Long lives do not go
with such work as this, and Dickens died, almost at his
desk, at the age of fifty-eight.

135. William Makepeace Thackeray, 1811-1863.
In 1836, when Dickens had just begun the Pickwick
Papers, the artist who was to illustrate them died, and a
young man offered himself as a substitute, but was not
accepted. This was William Makepeace Thackeray, who
was to be counted as one of the three great novelists of
the Victorian Age. His early life was unlike that of
Dickens, for, born in India, he was sent to England to
be educated, and had all the advantages of school and
university. Just what he should do with himself was
not easy to decide ; but he had artistic ability and he
concluded to study art. About the time when he came
to the decision that he had not the talent to be as great
an artist as he had hoped, his fortune was lost. Then
he began to contribute to several magazines ; and as if
laughing at himself for having even thought of being a
famous artist, he signed his articles " Michael Angelo
Titmarsh."

Thackeray's fame was of slower growth than Dick-
ens's. People read his Great Hoggarty Diamond in
Tie Great Fraser's Magazine and his Book of Snobs in
Dimraa Punch ; they were amused and interested, but
1811. they did not lie awake nights longing for the

oi Snobs. "^^t number. Publishers did not contend wildly
1848. for his manuscripts, and he was sometimes

asked to shorten those that he presented. Dickens had
an unfailing good nature and cheerfulness and a healthy
confidence in himself almost from the first that swept
his readers along with him. Thackeray was not so

1847-1848] THE CENTURY OF THE NOVEL

227

cheery, and he was not quite so sure of himself or of
his audience. Again, people like to be amused. When
Dickens made fun of his characters, he laughed at them
with the utmost frankness, and every one laughed with
him. When Thackeray disapproved, he wrote satiri-
cally ; and satire is not so easy to see and not so amus-
ing to every one as open ridicule. Dickens's pathos,
too, was much more marked than Thackeray's. For
these reasons Thackeray's fame grew slowly Y^^tTFair
In 1 847-1 848 he wrote Vanity Fair. Now 1847-
Thackeray greatly admired Fielding, and oddly ^***"
enough, this book had somewhat the same relation to
Dickens's novels that
Fielding's Joseph An-
drews had to Pamela.
Dickens always had
heroes and heroines,
and they were always
good. 'They might be
thrown among wicked
people, but they were
never led astray by bad
company. Thackeray
declared that Vanity
Fair had no hero. Its
heroine, Becky Sharp,
is distinctly bad. Her
badness and clever-
ness stand out in
bolder relief from con-
trast with Amelia's goodness and dulness. The book is
a satire on social life, but it is a kindly satire. Like
Shakespeare, Thackeray has charity for every one ; and
even in the case of Becky, he does not fail to let us see

WILLIAM MAKEPEACE THACKERAY
1811-1863

228 ENGLAND'S LITERATURE [1820-1855

how much circumstances have done to make her what
she is.

Besides novels Thackeray also wrote lectures on The
English Humourists and on The Four Georges. He wrote
Henry Es- some merry burlesques, one on Ivanhoe called
fi=»' Rebecca and Rowena, wherein Rowena marries

1852> .

The Wow- Ivanhoe but makes him wretched by her jeal-
1M4- ousy of Rebecca. His best novel is Heiiry
1855. Esmond, a historical romance of the eighteenth

century ; but in The Newcomes is the character that
comes nearest to every one's heart, the dear old Colonel
who loses his fortune and is obliged to live on the char-
ity of the Brotherhood of the Gray Friars. If Thack-
eray had written nothing else, his picturing of the ex-
quisite simplicity and self-respecting dignity with which
Colonel Newcome accepts the only life that is open
to him, would have been enough to prove his genius.
This is the way he describes the Colonel's death : —

" Just as the last bell struck, a peculiar sweet smile
shone over his face, and he lifted up his head a little,
and quickly said ' Adsum ' and fell back. It was the
word we used at school when names were called ; and,
lo, he whose heart was as that of a little child had an-
swered to his name, and stood in the presence of his
Maker."

136. "George Eliot," 1820-1881. Mary Ann Evans
Cross, much better known as " George Eliot," was only
a few years younger than Dickens and Thackeray ; but
the mass of their work was done before she wrote her
earliest no.vel. Her first thirty-two years were spent in
Shakespeare's country of Warwickshire. She was al-
ways a student ; and, although she left school at sixteen,
she went on with French and German and music. She
also studied Greek and Hebrew. When she was twenty-

1851-1872] THE CENTURY OF THE NOVEL 229

seven years old she translated a German work. This
was so well done that it brought her much Transia-
praise. She began to write essays, and in 185 1 *'°°"
she left the house that had been made lonely by the
death of her father and went to London as assistant edi-
tor of the Westminster Review. It was six years longer
before she attempted fiction ; and even then the attempt
was not an idea of her own. She felt very doubtful of
her ability to succeed, and probably hesitated longer
about sending her Scenes from Clerical Life to scenes
Blackwood' s than about forwarding her first ^j^j^J"'
essay to a publisher. She could hardly be- 1857.
lieve her own eyes when she read the admiring notices
that appeared from all directions. There was no ques-
tion that she was no longer to be a writer of essays, but
of novels ; and two years later Adam Bede came out.
Then there was not only increased admiration but a
curiosity that was determined to be gratified, for no one
knew who was the author of either book. Carlyle was
convinced that it was a man, but Dickens was one of
the first to believe that it was a woman. Her „^ , .„

The Mill on

next volume, The Mill on the Floss, tells us the Floss.

1860

much of her life as a child. Not at all like
Maggie of the Mill is the little heroine of her following
book, Silas Marner, the story of a miser who gu^g jj^.
is brought, back to love and happiness by the ""• i^ei.
tiny golden-haired child who made her way into his
lonely cottage.

George Eliot wrote no more books about her child-
hood, and we never again come as near her somoia.
own life as in The Mill on the Floss. She ^^^^•

Middle-
wrote . now a historical novel, Romola ; now a marcii.

story of English life, Middlemarch, and other '^'^^7 .

works. In one way her novels may be said to have the

230 ENGLAND'S LITERATURE [1800-1859

same theme ; the chief character longs for a nobler and
better life than he has, and at last, after many efforts,
he finds it. He who does wrong is punished ; but with
all her exactness of justice, she never fails to make us
see that the temptations to which one yields are real
to him, however feeble they may be to others. " When
I had finished it," said Mrs. Carlyle of Adam Bede, "I
found myself in charity with the whole human race."
George Eliot's characters grow. Scott's Ivanhoe and
Rebecca and Rowena are exactly the same at the end
of the book as at the beginning ; but Maggie Tulliver
and Adam and Silas are altered by years and events.
We must admit that her later novels have less freshness
and beauty and humor than the earlier ; but the novelist
who pictures even one phase of human life as exactly,
as thoughtfully, and as sympathetically as George Eliot
must ever be counted among the greatest.

137. Thomas Babington Macaulay, 1800-1859.
The most prominent essayists between 1832 and 1900
were Macaulay, Carlyle, Ruskin, and Arnold.

Thomas Babington Macaulay must have been as inter-
esting when a small boy as he was when a man. He was
hardly more than a baby when he read anything and
everything, and his memory was so amazing that he
could repeat verbatim whatever he had read. He was
the busiest of children ; for before he was eight, he had
written an epitome of general history, and an
essay on the Christian religion which he hoped
would convert the heathen, besides epics, hymns, and
various other poems. He was always able to talk in
grown-up fashion. The story is told that when he was
only four years of age, some hot tea was spilled over
his legs. After various remedies had been applied, he
was asked if he felt better. "Thank you, madam," the

1804-1825] THE CENTURY OF THE NOVEL

231

little fellow replied gravely, "the agony is abated."
The great charm of the wonderful boy was that he
never seemed to notice that he was any brighter than
other boys. He fan-
cied that older peo-
ple knew everything,
and was inclined to
feel humble because
he did not know
more. He had de-
lightful rambles with
the other children
over a great common
broken by ponds and
bushes and hillocks
and gravel pits, for
every one of which
he had a name and a
legend. To go away
to. school and leave
all these good times
and his eight brothers and sisters was a severe trial,
and he begged most piteously to come home for just one
day before the vacation.

As he grew older, he no longer learned by heart with-
out the least effort ; but even then, a man who could
recite the whole of Pilgrim s Progress and ^is
Paradise Lost had small reason to complain of m»n">ry.
a poor memory, and he seemed to read books by simply
turning the pages. After taking his degree, he studied
law, wrote a few articles for the magazines, and ^ ^
in 1825, when he was just twenty-iive years of Miiton.
age, published in the Edinburgh Review his
Essay on Milton. Before the next number of the Review

LORD MACAULAY
1800-1859

232 ENGLAND'S LITERATURE [1825-1856

was out, the young contributor was a famous man. He
had done something that no one else had succeeded in
doing ; he had written in a style that was not only clear
and strong and interesting, but was brilliant. Every
sentence seemed to' be the crystallization of a thought.
Every sentence was so closely connected with what pre-
ceded it that the reader could almost feel that he was
thinking along with the writer and that his own thoughts
were being put into words.

Just as in Addison's day, each political party was on
the watch for young men of literary talent, and Macaulay

soon had an opportunity to enter Parliament.
InpoUUos. . , 1 ^ u ■

A few years later he was given a government

position in India with a salary that enabled him to return
within three years with means sufficient to justify him
in devoting himself to literature. Through the years
between the publication of his Essay on Milton and
1849, his literary fame was on the increase. He wrote
a most valuable work on Indian law, he wrote a number
of essays, the famous ones on Johnson and on Warren
Hastings among them. He wrote his spirited Lays
Lays of of Ancient Rome, and he read, read English,
R?me"* Greek, Latin, but especially English history ;
1842. for he had planned no less a work than a his-

tory of England from 1688 to the French Revolution.
In 1848 his first volume came out, and then Macaulay
learned what popularity meant. Novels were forgotten,
History oi for every one was reading the History of Eng-
1848*"*' ^"^'^- Edition after edition was issued. Within
1880. a few weeks after its publication in England,

six different editions were published in the United
States, and one firm alone sold 40,000 copies. As
other volumes followed, the sales became even greater.
In 1856, his publishers gave him a check for ^20,000,

i79S-i8s6] THE CENTURY OF THE NOVEL 233

" part of what will be due me in December," he wrote
in his jourrtal. Brilliant as the work is, it is severely
criticised, for Macaulay was too intense in his feelings
and too " cock-sure of everything," as was said of him,
to be impartial ; but it is a wonderful succession of the
most vivid pictures and as interesting as a romance.
Honors canie to him thick and fast, and soon the queen
raised him to the peerage. He worked away indus-
triously, hoping to complete his history ; but before the
fifth volume had come to its end he died, sitting at his
library table before an open book.

138. Thomas Carlyle, 1795-1881. Never were four
writers more unlike than our four essayists ; and the
second, Thomas Carlyle, was unlike everybody else ; he
was in a class by himself. His father was a Scotchman,
a sensible, self-respecting stone mason who had high
hopes for his eldest son. When the boy had entered the
University of Edinburgh, the way seemed to lie open for
him to become a clergyman ; but before the time came
for him to take his degree, he decided that the pulpit
was not the place for him. His friends must have felt
a little out of patience, for he seemed to have
no very definite idea of what he did want.
After teaching a while, he concluded that he did not
want that in any case, and set to work to win his living
from the world by writing. The world gave no sign of
caring particularly for what he wrote or for his transla-
tions from the German ; and when he was thirty-one
years of age, he seemed little further advanced on the
road to literary glory than when he was twenty-five. In
his thirty-first year he married Jane Welsh, a witty,
clever young lady who was not without literary ability of
her own. She had strong confidence in her husband's
powers and a vast ambition for him to succeed. There

234 ENGLAND'S LITERATURE [1833-1837

was little income, and the only course seemed to be to
go to her small farm of Craigenputtock ; and there they
lived for six years a most lonely life. Out of the soli-
Sartor tude and dreariness came Sartor Resartus,

Hes«tus. «jj^g -pg^jjQj. Retailored." The foundation of
1834. the book is the notion that as man is within

clothes, so the thought of God is within man and nature.
The work did not meet a warm reception. " When is
that stupid series of articles by the crazy tailor going
to end .'' " asked one of the subscribers to Eraser s, the
magazine in which it was published ; and many people
agreed with him, for while the pages were glowing with
poetical feeling and sparkling with satire, the style was
harsh and jagged and exasperating. Carlyle manufac-
tured new words, and he used old ones in a fashion that
seemed to his readers unpardonably ridiculous. It was
very slowly that one after another found that the book
had a message, a ringing cry to " Work while it is called
To-day," and that its earnestness of purpose was arous-
ing courage and breathing inspiration.

Carlyle decided that it was best for him to live in
London, and in 1834 Craigenputtock was abandoned.
History of Three years later, his History of the FrcncJi
HevoinUon Revolution was published, — not a clear story
1837. by any means, but a series of flashlight pic-

tures, so vivid and realistic that at last recognition came
to him. For nearly thirty years he continued to write.
Such keen, powerful sentences as these came from his
pen : —

" No man, it has been said, is a hero to his valet ; and
this is probably true ; but the fault is at least as likely
to be the valet's as the hero's."

"No mortal has a right to wag his tongue, much less
to wag his pen; without saying something."

1819-1900] THE CENTURY OF THE NOVEL 235

Here are some of his definitions : —

" A dandy is a clothes-wearing man, — a man whose
trade, office, and existence consist in the wearing of
clothes."

"Genius means the transcendent capacity of taking
trouble, first of all."

These sentences show Carlyle in his simplest style ;
but he was capable of such expressions as this : —

"The all of things is an infinite conjugation of the
verb — 'To do.' "

London he called " That monstrous tuberosity of civ-
ilized life."

His Heroes and Hero-Worship appeared first as lec-
tures. Fifteen years of hard labor gave the world his
History of the Life and Times of Frederick II, History oi
commonly called Frederick the Great. Then n'^^'ggg.
came honors that would have rejoiced the heart ises.
of the father who had believed in his boy. Carlyle never
forgot that father, and of him he wrote, " Could I write
my Books as he built his Houses, walk my way so man-
fully through this shadow-world, and leave it with so
little blame, it were more than all my hopes." What
Carlyle looked upon as his greatest honor was his being
chosen Lord Rector of the University at Glasgow ; but
the joy was taken away from him almost before he had
tasted it, for he had barely finished his inaugural address
before word was brought of the death of his wife. He
lived until 1881, fifteen years after meeting with this
loss. During the year before his death, a cheap edition
of Sartor Resarius was issued, and thirty thousand copies
were sold within a few weeks. Carlyle had found his
audience.

139. John Ruskin, 1819-1900. John Ruskin was a
quiet, gentle little lad, who was brought up with books

236 ENGLAND'S LITERATURE [1843-1863

and pictures and travel and comforts of all sorts, watched
over by the most loving of parents, but instantly pun-
ished for the slightest disobedience. His parents, hke
Carlyle's, expected their son to be a clergyman. He
grew up with the thought that he should be a preacher,
and a preacher he was all his life, though he did not talk
Modem ^^ pulpits but in books. His earliest books
Fainteis. were about art. Modern Painters was their
name, and the first volume came out soon after
he had taken his degree at Oxford. His text was the
landscape painting of Turner, whom he declared to be
"the greatest painter of all time." However that might
be, there was no question that the young man of twenty-
four was the greatest art critic of his time. For nearly
twenty years he worked on the five volumes of Modern
Painters, writing also during that time several books on
stones oi architecture. He almost always gave fanciful
Venice. titles to his writings, and one of his earhest
architectural works he called Stones of Venice.
Ruskin was eager to have all, even the humblest of the
tin workingmen, enjoy art and beauty; but he found
working- that it was very hard for a man to produce works
°'°"' of art or even to enjoy beauty when he was

not sure of his next meal. Such thoughts as these led
Ruskin to write Unto This Last and Miinera Pulveris,
Unto This wherein he discussed fearlessly the relations
Last. 1862. between rich and poor, employer and employed,
Pulveris. etc. His ideas were looked upon as revolu-
1863. tionary, and the magazine in which Unto This

Last was coming out refused to continue publishing the
chapters. In Ru skin's time there were better oppor-
tunities to make fortunes than there had been before,
and therefore the struggle for wealth was increasingly
eager. He preached that not competition but Christian

1865-1889] THE CENTURY OF THE NOVEL 237

thoughtfulness was the proper spirit of trade ; that idle-
ness was guilt, but that labor should be made happy by
the pleasures of art and the joy that comes from the
ability to appreciate nature. These are the thoughts
that leaven all his subsequent books, though he wrote
on many different subjects, ever giving whimsically poeti-
cal titles; for example, Deucalwn treats oi "the Deuoauon.
lapse of waves and the life of stones ; " Sesame I875-1883.
and Lilies treats of "Kings' Treasuries," by andLiues.

1865

which he means books and reading, and of pjatenta.
" Queens' Gardens," that is, the education and i885-i889.
rightful work of women. His final book, an autobiog-
raphy, is called Prceterita.

Even the people who did not agree with Ruskin's
theories could not help admiring his style and the wealth
of imagination with which he beautified his sim- rusmu's
pi est statements. His richness of imagery is **?'»■
not like Spenser's, however, — so overpowering that the
thought is lost. With Ruskin the thought is always
present, always easy to find, and very often made beau-
tiful. All this he accomplishes with the simplest Saxon
words, for a generous share of his vocabulary came from
the Bible, which in his childhood days he was required to
read over and over, and long passages of which he was
made to learn by heart. This is the way he describes
the river Rhone : —

There were pieces of waves that danced all day as if Perdita
were looking on to learn ; there were little streams that skipped
like lambs and leaped like chamois ; there were pools that shook
the sunshine all through them, and were rippled in layers of over-
laid ripples, like crystal sand ; there were currents that twisted
the light into golden braids, and inlaid the threads with turquoise
enamel ; there were strips of stream that had certainly above the
lake been mill-streams, and were looking busily for mills to turn
again ; there were shoots of streams that had once shot fearfully

238 ENGLAND'S LITERATURE [1822-1888

into the air, and now sprang up again laughing that they had only
fallen a foot or two ; and in the midst of all the gay glittering
and eddied lingering, the noble bearing by of the midmost depth,
so mighty, yet so terrorless and harmless, with its swallows skim-
ming instead of petrels, and the dear old decrepit town as safe
in the embracing sweep of it as if it were set in a brooch of sap-
phire.

People might well admire such a manner of writing ;
and Ruskin once said half sadly, " All my life I have
been talking to the people, and they have listened, not
to what I say, but to how I say it." This is not true,
however, for in art, in ethics, even in sociology, he has
found a large audience of thoughtful, appreciative lis-
teners.

140. Matthew Arnold, 1822-1888. Matthew Ar-
nold was the son of Dr. Arnold, Head Master of Rugby,
the " Doctor " of Tom Brown at Rugby. Ruskin was
free to lead his life as he would. Arnold was a busy pub-
lic official, for from his twenty-ninth year till three years
before his death he was inspector of schools and could
oreek give to literature only the spare bits of his

lestiaint. time. Yet from those broken days came forth
both poetry and prose that give him a high rank. He
loved the Greek literature, and in his poems there is
Tie For- "i^ch of the Greek restraint which does for
sakenMoi- his poetry what high-bred courtesy does for
man. 1849. ^nanners. In his Forsaken Merman, for in-
stance, one of his most original and most exquisite
poems, there is not a word of outspoken grief ; but all
the merman's loneliness and longing are in the oft-
repeated line, —

Children, dear, was it yesterday?

Some readers are chilled by this reserve ; but to those
who sympathize, it suggests rather a strength of feeling

1812-1889] THE CENTURY OF THE NOVEL 239

that cannot weaken itself to words. The poem that he
wrote in memory of his father after a visit to Rugsy
Rugby Chapel fairly throbs with love and sup- ^i^^J;
pressed sorrow, but he writes bravely : — 1857.

O strong soul, by what shore
Tarri est thou now? For that force
Surely has not been left vain !
Somewhere, surely, afar.
In the sounding labour-house vast
Of being, is practised that strength,
Zealous, beneficent, firm !

As a writer of prose, Matthew Arnold's special work
is criticism of books and of life. His trumpet gives no
uncertain sound. As he says, "We must ac- Prosecriu-
custom ourselves to a high standard and to a '''^"•
strict judgment." It is he who tells us that if we keep
in mind lines and expressions of the great masters, they
will serve as a touchstone to show us what onthe
poetry is real. This he says in his essay On p),"^"'
the Study of Poetry, and it shows what clear, 188O.
definite, helpful thoughts he has for those who go to him
for advice or for pleasure.

In this latest age of English literature, many poets
have written well, but two only are counted as of the
first rank, Robert Browning and Alfred Tennyson.

141. Robert Browning, 1812-1889. One of the most
interesting of Robert Browning' s writings is a letter which
says, " I love your verses with all my heart, dear tio ory oi
Miss Barrett." Miss Barrett was the author of j^m ma.
several volumes of poems, many of them full of The Rhyme
sympathy, of tender sentiment, and of religious jjaohesa
trust, — poems of the sort that sink into the May.
hearts of those who love a poem even without knowing
why. One of these is The Cry of the Children, meaning

240 ENGLAND'S LITERATURE [1843-1861

the children who were toiling in mills and in mines. It
pictures their sadness and weariness, and closes with the
strong lines, —

But the child's sob in the silence curses deeper

Than the strong man in his wrath.

Another favorite is The Rhyme of the Duchess May,
which ends with a good thought expressed with the
poet's frequent disregard of rhyme : —

And I smiled to think God's greatness flowed around our incom-
pleteness,
Round our restlessness, His rest.

The author had been an invalid for years, and she was
able to see only a few people. She replied to Mr. Brown-
ing's letter, "Sympa-
thy is dear — very
dear to me ; but the
sympathy of a poet,
and of such a poet,
is the quintessence
of sympathy ! " It
was four months be-
fore Miss Barrett was
able to receive a call
from Mr. Browning,
but at last they met.
Some time later they
were married ; and
until- the death of
Mrs. Browning, in
1861, they made their
home in Italy, — a
home which was ideal
in its love and hap-
piness. Mr. Browning had written much poetry, but it

ROBERT BROWNING
l8l2-l88g

183S-1856] THE CENTURY OF THE NOVEL 241

was not nearly so famous as that of his wife. It was
harder to understand ; for some of it was on philosophi-
cal subjects, and some of it was dramatic. Sometimes
it is not easy to tell how to classify a poem ; paiaooisus.
his Paracelsus, for instance, is called a drama, ^^^^•
but it is almost entirely made up of monologue. The
simplest of his dramas is Pippa Passes. The
young girl Pippa is a silk-winder who has but Passes,
one holiday in the year. When the joyful
morning has come, she names over the " Four Happi-
est " in the little town and says to herself, —

I will pass each and see their happiness
And envy none.

She "passes," first, by the house wherein is one of the
" Happiest ; " but Pippa does not know that this one and
her lover have just committed a murder. As Pippa sings,

God 's in his heaven —
All 's right with the world,

the horror of their crime comes over them, and they re-
pent of their evil. So the song of the pure little maiden
touches the life of each one of the " Four Happiest ; "
but the child goes to sleep wondering whether she could
ever come near enough to the great folk to " do good or
evil to them some slight way."

After their marriage both Mr. and Mrs. Browning

continued to write. Mrs. Browning's most .

° Aurora

conspicuous work was Aurora Leigh, a novel Leigi.
in verse which discusses many sociological
questions, — too many for either a novel or a poem, —
and her beautiful Sonnets from the Portuguese, sonnets
which were in reality not from the Portuguese, po^^gga,
but straight from her own heart, and which isso.
tell with most exquisite delicacy the story of her love

242 ENGLAND'S LITERATURE [1850-1869

for her husband. Browning published two volumes be-
otristmas fore the death of his wife, Christmars Eve and
EastraDay. Easter Day, and Men and Women. In 1868-
Men'ana ^9' '^"''^ ^^'^'^ thirty-five years after he began
Women. to write, he published The Ring and the Book.
The Ring This is the story of an Italian murder, which

ana the jjj ^^ course of the poem is related by a num-
Book. ^ . ,

1868-1869. ber of different persons. It met with a hearty

reception, partly because it is not only a poem and a fine

one but also a wonderful picturing of the impression

made by one act upon several unlike persons ; and partly

because in those thirty-five years Browning's
Browning's admirers, consisting for a long time of one

reader here and another one there, had in-
creased until now his audience was ready for him.
Indeed, it was growing with amazing rapidity, partly
because of his real merit, and partly because he some-
times wrotfe in most involved and obscure fashion.
People who liked to think were pleased with the resist-
ance of the more difficult poems ; -they liked to puzzle
out the meaning. People who did not like to think but
who did wish to be counted among the thinkers hastened
to buy Browning's poems and to join Browning clubs.

The best way for most people to enjoy these poems
is not to struggle with some obscure and unimportant

difficulty of phrase or of thought, but to read
enjoy first what they like best, and find little by little

^' what he has said that belongs to them espe-
cially. Read some of the shorter lyrics : Prospice, The
Lost Leader, The Pied Piper of Hamelin, that weird and
fascinating rhyme for children, and Rabbi Ben Ezra,
with its magnificent —

Grow old along with me !
The best is yet to be.

1809-1892] THE CENTURY OF THE NOVEL 243

Those last two lines are the keynote of Browning's in-
spiration, his cheerful courage in looking at life and his
robust confidence in the blessedness of the life that lies
beyond. One cannot have too much of Browning.
. 142. Alfred Tennyson, 1809-1892. Neither is it
possible to have too much of Tennyson, who, far more

ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON

than Browning, was the representative poet of the Vic-
torian Age. Two stories have been saved from Ten-
nyson's childhood. One is of the five-year old child
tossing his arms in the blast and crying, " I hear a voice
that 's speaking in the wind." The other is of an older
brother's reading a slateful of the little Alfred's verses

244 ENGLAND'S LITERATURE [1830-1842

and declaring judicially, "Yes, you can write." There
were twelve of the Tennyson children. " They all wrote
verses," said a neighbor ; and when Alfred was seven-
teen and one of his brothers a year older, they published
a little book of verse. Two years later Alfred entered
Poems, college, and while in college he published
Lyrical Poems, Chiefly Lyrical. These seem less like
1830. completed works than like the first sketches of

an artist for a picture. They are glimpses of the poet's
talent, experiments in sound rather than expressions of
Poems. thought. In 1832 he brought out a little
1832. volume which ought to have convinced who--

ever glanced at it that a true poet had arisen, for here
were not only such poems as The May Queen and Lady
Clara Vere de Vere, which were sure to strike the pop-
ular' fancy, but also The Dream of Fair Women, The

Lotus-Eaters, and The Lady of Shalott. Never-
oritioism. theless, the critics were severe ; and this was
perhaps the best thing that could have happened to the

young poet, for he set to work to study and
1842. think. Ten years later he brought out two

of ws " more volumes, and then there was no question
genius. ^-|j^(- j^g ^,^g ^-jjg fjj-g^ pQg). q£ j^jg tijyig -j-jje best

known of these poems are his thrilling little song, —

Break, break, break.

On thy cold gray stones, O Sea !
And I would that my tongue could utter

The thoughts that arise in me,

and Locks ley Hall. The latter has been read and re-
cited and quoted and parodied, but it is not even yet
worn out. Here are the two stanzas that were Tenny-
son's special favorites : —

Love took up the glass of Time and turn'd it in his glowing hands ;
Every moment, lightly shaken, ran itself in golden sands.

1847-1850] THE CENTURY OF THE NOVEL 245

Love took up the harp of Life, and smote on all the chords with

might ;
Smote the chord of Self, that, trembling, pass'd in music out of

sight.

In these volumes, too, were Morte d'Arthurdcad snatches
of poems on Galahad and Launcelot, — enough to show
that Tennyson had found old Malory, and that the stories
of King Arthur and the Round Table were haunting his
mind. When The Princess came out, there was some
criticism of the impossible story in a probable -,^ „ ^
setting, of the mingling of the earnest and the ceas, a Mod-
burlesque, which the poet had not entirely fore- '°^' ^'*''
stalled by calling the poem a Medley. It is a very beau-
tiful medley, however, and the songs which were inter-
spersed in the later edition are most exquisite. Here
are "Sweet and Low," "The splendor falls on castle
walls," and others.

The year 1850 was a marked season for Tennyson. It
was the year of his marriage to the lady from whom
financial reasons had separated him for twelve m Memo-
years ; it was the year of publication of In r'a™- 1850.
Memoriam and of his appointment as Laureate. In
Memoriam was called forth by the death of Arthur Henry
Hallam, Tennyson's best-loved college friend, which took
place seventeen years earlier. It is a collection of short
poems, gleams of his thoughts of his friend, changing as
time passed from "large grief," from questioning, " How
fares it with the happy dead .' " from tender memories of
Hallam's words and ways — from all these to the hour
when he who grieved could rest —

And hear at times a sentinel

Who moves about from place to place,
And whispers to the worlds of space,

In the deep night, that all is well.

246 ENGLAND'S LITERATURE [1858-1886

The duties of the Laureate have vanished, but there is a
mild expectation that he will manifest some interest in
the greater events of the kingdom by an occa-
Laureate. ^.^^^j ^^^^ Tennyson fulfilled this expecta-
tion generously, and his Laureate poems have a clear ring
of sincerity. They range all the way from his welcome
to the present queen of England, —

Sea-kings' daughter from over the sea,
to his superb Ode on the Death of the Duke of Wellmgton :

Bury the Great Duke

With an empire's lamentation,
Let us bury the Great Duke

To the noise of the mourning of a mighty nation.

ThDid Us ^°^ °"^y sincerity, but tender respect and
oithoKing. sympathy, unite in his dedication of the Idylls
1858-1886. ^y. ^^^ j^^^^ J.Q ^jjg memory of Prince Albert : —

These to His IMemory — since he held them dear,-
Perchance as finding there unconsciously
Some image of himself.

To the queen in her sadness he says : —

Break not, O woman's heart, but still endure ;
Break not, for thou art Royal, but endure.

In the Idylls Tennyson had come to his kingdom ; for
the "dim, rich " legends were after his own heart. Here
was a thread of story which he could alter as he would ;
here were love, valor, innocence, faithlessness, treachery,
religious ecstasy, an earthly journey with a heavenly
recompense. Here were opportunities for the brilliant
and varied ornament in which he delighted, for all the
beauties of description, and for a character drawing as
strong as it was delicate.

In the Idylls Tennyson shows his power to present

1864-T892] THE CENTURY OF THE NOVEL 247

the complex in character ; but in Enoch Arden he draws
with no less skill a simple fisherman who j^^^j,
through no fault of his own meets lifelong sor- Arden.
row and loneliness. Enoch is wrecked on a
desert island, and his wife, believing him dead, finally
yields and marries his friend. After many years Enoch
finds his way home, but his home is his no more, and
he prays : —

Uphold me, Father, in my loneliness
A little longer ! aid me, give me strength
Not to tell her, never to let her know.
Help me not to break in upon her peace.

So simply, so naturally is the story told that the whole
force of the silent tragedy, of the greatness of the fish-
erman hero, is not realized till the triumph of the closing

words, —

So past the strong, heroic soul away.

Yielding to the fascination which the drama has for
men of literary genius, Tennyson wrote several Toimyson's
historical plays, but this was not his field. The <irama.
characters are not lifelike, and, though the plays read
well, they do not act well.

Among his last work was Crossing the Bar. Every
true poet has a message. His was of faith and trust, and
nothing could be more fitting as his envoy than the
closing stanza of this lyric : —

For though from out our bourne of Time and Place

The flood may bear me far,
I hope to see my Pilot face to face

When I have crost the bar.

143. The age of the pen. The nineteenth century
has been called the age of steam and electricity ; but
perhaps a better name would be the age of the pen, for
almost every one writes. In this mass of literary work

248 ENGLAND'S LITERATURE [iptli Cent.

there is much excellence ; but, leaving out the greatest
authors, only a prophet could select "the few, the im-
mortal names that were not born to die." The historical
value of these many writers is unknown, their intrinsic
value is undecided ; criticism is variable, and is prejudiced
by their nearness. Nevertheless, it is hard to pass over
the " Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood," such a group of poets
as William Morris with his Earthly Paradise, Dante
Gabriel Rossetti with the weird charm of his Blessed
Damozel ; and Algernon Charles Swinburne, whose
verses, ever strong and intense, reveal the touch of a
master of all music.

Aside from the historians already named, the greater
number of writers of history have taken England for
their theme. John Richard Green, in his Short History
of the English People, gave new life to the men of the
olden times ; Edward Augustus Freeman, ever accurate
and painstaking, wrote of the Norma^t Conquest ; James
Anthony Froude was, like Macaulay, a partisan, and
therefore not always to be trusted in his estimates of
men, but, like Macaulay, he. possessed the "historical
imagination," which is, after all, little more than the
ability to remember that men of the past were as human
as men of the present.

Among scientific writings Charles Darwin's Origin of
Species, Sir Charles Lyell's Principles of Geology, and
the works of Tyndall and Huxley have been most widely
read. The names of essayists and critics are many.
Walter Pater with his harmonious sentences, John
Henry Newman with his exquisitely polished diction,
are well known and are well worthy of honor. Espe-
cially hopeless is the effort to make a satisfactory choice
among the novelists. Not every one would dream of
attempting a scientific treatise or a volume of even sec-

I9th Cent.] THE CENTURY OF THE NOVEL 249

ond-rate poetry ; but who is there, from Disraeli, the
British premier, to the young girl whose graduation
gown is still fresh, that does not feel the longing to pro-
duce a novel? Edward Bulwer Lytton, Lord Lytton,

CARDINAL NEWMAN

won fame by his Last Days of Pompeii ; Elizabeth Cleg-
horn Gaskell was the author of Cranford, that little mas-
terpiece of delineation of village life ; Charles Reade
wrote Put Yourself in His Place and other stories, many
of which aimed vigorous blows at some social injustice.
Within the last twenty years novels have made their ap-
pearance by the score. Who can say whether the excel-
lence which we see in many of them is really enduring
excellence or only some quality so especially congenial

250 ENGLAND'S LITERATURE [19th Cent.

to our own times that it seems excellent to us ? Whether
these later works are strong and lasting currents in the
stream of England's literature or whether they are only
eddies and ripples, it is too early to decide.

For twelve hundred years or longer this stream has
flowed, how narrowed, now broadened, hut ever moving
onward. The epic has swept on from the simple thought
and primeval virtues of Beowulf to the harmonious organ
tones of Paradise Lost. The drama, beginning with the
mystery play, has come to its height under the magic
touch of Shakespeare, and presents not only action but
that intangible thing, thought, and development of char-
acter. The early lyric is known to us in a single poem,
Widsith. To-day lyric poetry means the glorious out-
burst of song of the Elizabethan times ; it means such
poems as Browning's Prospice, wherein the physical
courage of the viking has become the religious courage
of the Christian ; and it means such delicate, thoughtful,
sympathetic love of nature and such exquisiteness of
expression as are shown in the works of Burns and
Wordsworth and Tennyson. Prose, at first as heavy and
rough and clumsy as a weapon of some savage tribe, has
become through centuries of hammering and filing and
tempering as keen as a Damascus blade. History, which
was at first the bare statement of certain occurrences,
has become a vivid panorama of events, combined with
profound study of their causes and their results. Bio-
graphy is no longer the throwing of a preternatural halo
around its subject ; the id-eal biography of to-day is that
which, uncolored by the prejudice of the writer, presents
the man himself as interpreted by his deeds and words.
The novel is the form of literary expression belonging
especially to the present age ; and because of its very
nearness to us in time and in interest, the judgment of

igthCent.] THE CENTURY OF THE NOVEL 251

its merits is difficult. Of two points, however, we may
be sure : first, that to centre in one character of a book
all interest and all careful workmanship is a mark of de-
generacy ; second, that to picture life faithfully, but with
the faithfulness of the artist and not of the camera, is a
mark of excellence. It is this requirement of faithful-
ness to truth which is after all the most worthy literary

THE POETS' CORNER, WESTMINSTER ABBEY

" note " of our age. The history must be accurate ; the
biography must be unprejudiced ; the reasoning of the
essay must be without fallacy ; the poem must flash out
a genuine thought ; and the novel that would endure
must be true to life. Whatever the future of England's
literature may be, it has at least the foundation of hon-
est effort and an inexorable demand for sincerity and
truth.

252

ENGLAND'S LITERATURE

[19th Cent.

Century XIX

CENTURY OF THE NOVEL
Before 1832

The " Lake Poets : "
William Wordsworth.
Samuel Taylor Coleridge
Robert Southey.

The romantic poets :

Walter Scott (historical nov-
elist).
Lord Byron.

The realist :
Jane Austen.

Lovers of beauty :
Percy Bysshe Shelley.
John Keats.

Essayists :

Charles Lamb.
Thomas De Quincey.

After 1832

Novelists :

Charles Dickens.
William Makepeace Thack-
eray.
" George Eliot."

Essayists :

Thomas B abington M acaulay

(historian).
Thomas Carlyle.
John Ruskin.
Matthew Arnold.

Poets :

Robert Browning and Mrs.

Browning.
Alfred Tennyson.

SUMMARY

During the first thirty years of the century the principal
authors were : —

I. The "Lake Poets," — Wordsworth, Coleridge, and
Southey. Wordsworth believed that poetry should treat of
simple subjects in every-day language. Coleridge believed
in treating lofty subjects in a realistic manner. These theo-
ries were illustrated by We Are Seven and The Ancient Mar-
iner. Southey wrote weird epics whose scenes were laid in
distant lands, and also many histories and biographies.
Coleridge had universal talent, but left everything incom-

I9th Cent] THE CENTURY OF THE NOVEL 253

plete. Wordsworth quietly wrote on, and slowly his power
to describe and interpret nature was recognized.

2. The romantic writers, Scott and Byron. Scott's first
work was ballad writing and ballad collecting. Then came
the Lay of the Last Minstrel, Marmion, etc. Byron's poetry
won the attention of the crowd, and Scott then devoted him-
self to the Waverley novels. He undertook also histories,
biographies, and translations; and the inventor of the his-
torical novel died of overwork.

Byron's first poetry was savagely reviewed, and he replied
fiercely. Childe Harold made him famous. He wrote many
cynical, romantic narrative poems and many beautiful de-
scriptions of nature. He died while trying to help the Greeks
win freedom from the Turks.

3. The lovers of beauty, Shelley and Keats. Shelley's life
was a continual revolt against established law. His poems
are marked not only by beauty but by a certain light and
airy quality which makes them unlike other poems.

Keats's first poem, Endymion, was criticised as savagely as
Byron's early work. He made no reply and continued to '
write. Although he died at the age of twenty-four, he is
ranked among the first of those who have loved beauty and
created it.

4. The essayists. Lamb and De Quincey. Lamb could
give to literature only fragments of his time. He attempted
poems, stories, and plays ; but had no special success till the
publication of Tales from Shakespeare. His best work was
his Essays of Elia, wherein he shows himself the most grace-
ful and charming of humorists.

De Quincey's first work. Confessions of an English Opium-
Eater, won much attention and was the first of his one hun-
dred and fifty magazine articles ; wherein he is dreamy, whim-
sical, or merely the teller of a plain .story, as the mood seizes
him ; but is always interesting.

5. The magazine critics. Th& Edinburgh Review, edited
by Jeffrey ; the Quarterly Review ; and Blackwood's, edited

254 ENGLAND'S LITERATURE [19th Cent.

by John Wilson, were all founded during the first twenty
years of the century.

6. The realist, Jane Austen, who wrote quiet novels of
home life with exceedingly good delineation of character.

In 1832, nearly all these authors were dead or had ceased
to write. There were changes in government ; education be-
came more general; reading matter was cheaper; scientific
discoveries aroused thpught. During the half-century follow-
ing 1832, there was a remarkable development of : —

1. The novel, in the hands of Dickens, Thackeray, and
" George Eliot." The Pickwick Papers made Dickens fa-
mous. During twenty years he published novel after novel,
merry, pathetic, but always charming; even though the char-
acters often seem unreal and are usually labelled by some
one quality.

Thackeray was less amusing and won fame more slowly.
He was a satirist, but a kindly one. He wrote not only novels
but lectures, literary and historical, and historical novels.

" George Eliot " did not attempt fiction till she was thirty-
seven, but her first work was so successful that after its pub-
lication she devoted herself to novel writing. Even aside
from their literary merit, the justice and charity of her nov-
els can hardly fail to make them lasting.

2. The essay, in the hands of Macaulay, Carlyle, Ruskin,
and Arnold. Macaulay wrote at twenty-five his essay on
Milton, the brilliant style of which brought him recognition.
He wrote many essays, some poetry, and then his History of
England. This was not impartial by any means, but was in-
tensely interesting and sold in enormous numbers.

Carlyle had reached middle age before his talent was re-
cognized, chiefly because he often wrote in a harsh and dis-
agreeable style. His Life of Frederick II, published when
he was between sixty and seventy, brought him wide fame
and honors of all kinds.

Ruskin at the age of twenty-four was recognized as the
greatest art critic of his time. His love of beauty and his

igthCent.] CENTURY OF THE NOVEL 255

wish that workingmen should enjoy it led him to a fearless
discussion of the relations between rich and poor, and there-
by he aroused severe criticism. His style, however, was ad-
mired by all.

Arnold, like Lamb, could give to literature only spare
minutes. His poems are marked by a Greek restraint. His
prose was in great degree made up' of criticism of books and
life ; in both of which he insisted upon a high standard.

3. In poetry, Browning and Tennyson are counted as of
the first rank. Browning's wife was famous as a poet in her
early years, but appreciation came to him slowly. For thirty-
five years he found only scattered admirers. Then he pub-
lished The Ring and the Book, and at last his audience was
ready. His writings are often involved in thought and in
phrase ; but they are of a high order of poetry and are
marked by courage and faith.

Tennyson was the representative poet of the Victorian
Age. His first work seems like experiments in sound. Ex-
cellent as it is, it met severe criticism. Twelve years after
the publication of his first volume he was recognized as
the first poet of his time. His most popular works are In
Memoriam, The Idylls of the King, and Enoch Arden, three
poems of utterly different character. His Laureate poems
have an unusual ring of sincerity. His attempts at drama
were not successful. His message, like Browning's, was one
of faith and trust.'

Besides those mentioned, the century has been rich in
poets, novelists, historians, scientists, and essayists, many of
whom in almost any other age would have been looked upon
as men of the highest genius.

Tracing the course of English literature for twelve hundred
years, we see the development of both poetry and prose from
the simplest beginnings to a high degree of excellence. The
novel is the special form of literary expression characteristic
of this age. In it, as in all other literary work of the time,
the first demand is for faithfulness to truth.

REFERENCES

The following lists of books are of course not expected to
be in any degree exhaustive. Their main object is, first, to
suggest some few of the great number of criticisms and his-
tories of literature that may be helpful to the student ; second,
to tell where good editions of complete works or selections
from some of the less accessible authors may be found.

For general consultation throughout the course the follow-
ing authorities are recommended : —

For history, manners, and customs ; Green's Short History
of the English People, Gardiner's Student's History of England,
Traill's Social England. For history of literature, Jusserand's
Literary History of the English People from the Origins to the
Renaissance. For history of the language, Lounsbury's History
of the English Language. For biography, the Dictionary of
National Biography is the standard work. See also the Eng-
lish Men of Letters Series. Three works, Craik's English
Prose Selections (5 vols.). Ward's English Poets (4 vols.), and
Morley's English Writers (i i vols.), contain well-chosen selec-
tions from the works of nearly all the authors named, and
are almost a necessity to students who are not able to consult,
a large library. For separate texts the volumes of the River-
side Literature Series are of special value because of their
careful editing, good binding, and reasonable price. Cassell's
National Library is also inexpensive and convenient.

Centuries V-XIII

Freeman's Old E7iglish History.

Sharon Turner's History of the Anglo-Saxons.

Brooke's English Literature from the Beginning to the Norman

Conquest.
Brother Azarias's Development of English Literature.

REFERENCES 257

Beowulf has been translated by C. G. Child {Riverside Literature
Series), Garnett, Hall, Morris and Wyatt, and others. Much of
the poem is given in Brooke's History of Early English Litera-
ture and Morley's English Writers. Morley, vol. i, contains
Widsith, passages from Csedmon and Cynewulf, and also speci-
mens of the old Celtic literature.

The Exeter Book has been translated by GoUancz (Early English
Text Society) ; also by Benjamin Thorpe.

Bede's Ecclesiastical History and the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle are
contained in one volume of Bohn's Antiquarian Library.

Alfred's Orosius and Pauli's Life of Alfred are in one volume of
Bohn's Antiquarian Library. Asser's Life of Alfred has been
edited by A. S. Cook (Ginn).

Extracts from the Ormulum, the Ancren Riwle, the History of
Geoffrey of Monmputh, Layamon's Brut, and King Horn (with
glossary) are contained in Morris and Skeat's Specimens of Early
English, vol. i.

Robin Hood Ballads are contained in Child's English and Scottish
Popular Ballads.

Geoffrey of Monmouth's History is contained in Giles's Six Old
English Chronicles (Bohn's A titiquarian Library.)

Century XIV

Jusserand's Wayfaring Life in the Fourteenth Century.

Wright's History of Domestic Manners and Sentiments in Eng-
land during the Middle Ages.

E. L. Cutts's Scenes and Characters of the Middle Ages.

Tudor Jenks's In the Days of Chaucer.

Mandeville's Voyages and Travels, Cassell's National Library.
Morris and Skeat's Specimens of Early English, vol. ii, con-
tains selections from Mandeville, Langland, Wyclif, and Chaucer.

Chaucer's Prologue, Knighfs Tale, and Nun's Priest's Tale (with
glossary) are published in one volume of the Riverside Litera-
ture Series. Lowell's Literary Essays, vol. iii, contains a delight-
ful appreciation of Chaucer.

Century XV

Green's Town Life in the Fifteenth Century.
Denton's England in the Fifteenth Century.
Jusserand's Romance of a Kinoes Life (James I).

2S8 ENGLAND'S LITERATURE

The King's Quair, edited by Skeat.

Malory's Morte d^ Arthur, edited by Sommer and also by GoUancz.
Morris and Skeat's Specimens of Early English, vol. iii, contains
selections from the King's Quair, the MOrle cl'Arihur,a.nd Cax-
ton's Recuyell of the History es of Troye.

Ballads. Child's English and Scottish Popular Ballads is th:;
grea(^ authority. Vtrcy's Religues. Gxxxntatre' a Old English Bal-
lads contains a well-chosen group and also a valuable introduc-
tion.

Mystery plays and Moralities. The York Plays, edited by Lucy
Toulmin Smith ; The English Religious Drama, by K. L. Bates.
English Miracle Plays, Moralities, and Interludes, by A. W.
Pollard, contains Everyman. Morley's Specimens of the Pre-
Shakespearian Drama contains The Foure P's, Ralph Roister
Doister, Gorboduc, Campaspe, etc. ,

Century XVI

Ward's History of English Dramatic Literature i^ vols.).

Lowell's Old English Dramatists.

Lamb's Specimens of English Dramatic Poets (Bohn's Antiqua-
rian Library).

Saintsbury's History of Elizabethan Literature.

E. P. Whipple's Literature of the Age of Elizabeth.

Lowell's Literary Essays, vol. iv, contains his essay on Spenser ;
in vol. iii is his essay on Shakespeare.

Schelling's The English Chronicle Play.

Schelling's The Queen's Progress.

Jusserand's The English Novel in the Time of Shakespeare.

Goadby's The England of Shakespeare.

Ordish's Shakespeare's London.

Warner's The People for whom Shakespeare wrote.

Tudor Jenks's In the Days of Shakespeare.

Sidney Lee's A Life of William Shakespeare and Shakespeare's
Life and Work.

Rolfe's Shakespeare the Boy.

Dowden's Shakespeare Primer.

Abbott's Shakespearian Grammar.

Lamb's Specimens of English Dramatic Poets who lived about
the Time of Shakespeare contains Gorboduc, Tamburlaine,
Edward II, The Rich few of Malta, Dr. Faustus, etc. The

REFERENCES 259

Mermaid Series contains the best plays of Beaumont and
Fletcher, Marlowe, and others. Morris and Skeat's Specimens
of Early English, vol. iii, contains selections from Skelton,
Tyndale, Surrey, Wyatt, also Ralph Roiste* Doister, Euphues,
and The Shepherd's Calendar.

The Mermaid Series contains a most valuable selection of the plays
of this age. ^

Utopia. Cassell's National Library, Morley's Universal Library,
Camelot Series, Temple Classics, etc.

Wyatt and Surrey. TotteVs Miscellany in Arber's English Re-
prints.

The Foure P's. Full extracts in Morley's English Plays.

Ralph Roister Doister, and Gorboduc. Morley's English Plays and
Manly's Specimens of the Pre-Shakespearian Drama.

Lyly. Euphues in Arber's Reprints. Endymion, edited by G. P.
Baker (Holt). Campaspe is in Manly's Specimens of the Pre-
Shakespearian Drama.

Spenser. The Riverside edition (3 vols.), edited by F. J. Child, is
authoritative. The Globe edition is in one volume. Minor poems
in the Temple Classics (Macmillan) ; The Shepherd's Calendar
in Cassell's National Library. The Faerie Queene, Bk. I, in
Riverside Literature Series.

Sidney. Arcadia, edited by H. Friswell. Prose selections, edited
by G. Macdonald in the Elizabethan Library. Defence of Poesie,
in Cassell's National Library. Astrophel and Stella, edited by
A. Pollard (Scott).

Lyrics. A Book of Elizabethan Lyrics, edited by F. E. Schelling.
Lyrics from the Dramatists of the Elizabethan Age, edited by
A. H. BuUen.

Marlowe. Chief plays in the Mermaid Series. Dr. Faustus in the
Temple Dramatists, in Morley's English Plays, and in Morley's
Universal Library.

Hooker. Ecclesiastical Polity, Books I-IV, in Morley's Universal
Library.

Shakespeare. Good editions are numerous. Furness's Variorum
is best for advanced work. For the beginner, Julius CcEsar,
The Merchant of Venice, Macbeth, The Tempest, and selec-
tions from the sonnets are recommended. The Winter's Tale is
published, in one volume of Cassell's National Library together
with Greene's Pandosto.

260 ENGLAND'S LITERATURE

Century XVII

Saintsbury's Elizabethan Literature (to 1660).

Lowell's Literary Essays, vol. iv, contains his essay on Milton ;
vol. iii that on Dryden.

Gesso's Jacobean Poets.

Gosse's Seventeenth Century Studies.

Lowell's Old English Dramatists.

Macaulay's Essays on Milton and Bunyan.

Schelling's Seventeenth Century Lyrics.

Lamb's On the Artificial Comedy of the Last Century.

The chief plays of this age are found in the Mermaid Series.

Bacon. Essays are published in Morley's Universal Library, also
in Macmillan's English Classics and in Cassell's National Li-
brary. Learning, Book I, has been edited by A. S. Cook (Ginn).

Jonson. Several of his masques are in H. A. Evans's English
Masques. Timber, edited by F. E. Schelling (Ginn); three of
his best plays and The Sad Shepherd are in Morley's Universal
Library.

Beaumont and Fletcher. Best plays are in the Mermaid Series.

Donne's poems are in the Muses'' Library, edited by E. K. Cham-
bers.

Milton. Masson's Poetical Works of John Milton (3 vols.) is the
standard edition. Paradise Lost, Books I-III, and earlier
poems with notes and biographical sketch in Riverside Litera-
ture Series ; also in Cassell's National Library (2 vols.). - Mil-
ton's Minor Poems (Allyn and Bacon).

Herbert. The Temple is in Morley's Universal Library, also in
Cassell's National Library.

Crashaw. Poems, edited by Turnbull, are in Library of Old Au-
thors j edited by Grosart, in Fuller'' s Worthies'' Library.

Vaughan. Poems, edited by E. K. Chambers, in Muses' Library.

Taylor. Holy Living and Holy Dying, in Bohn's Standard Li-
brary. Selections, edited by E. E. Wentworth (Ginn).

Carew, Lovelace, Suckling. Selections are in Cavalier and Cour-
tier Lyrists, Canterbury Poets Series (Scott).

Herrick. Hesperides and Noble Numbers, edited by A. Pollard.
Selections in Athenaum Press Series {fymvC). Lyrics, selected
from Hesperides and Noble Numbers, by T. B. Aldrich (Century
Co.).

REFERENCES 261

Walton. Compleat Angler, in Cassell's National Library . Lives of
Donne and Herbert in Morley's Universal Library.

Butler. Selections from Hudibras in Morley's Universal Library.

Bunyan. The Pilgrim's Progress in Riverside Literature Series.

Dryden. Religio Laid, etc. in Cassell's National Library ; also
selections from his poems. Poetical Works, edited by W. P.
Christie ; select poems edited by Christie (Clarendon Press).
Palamon and Arcite, edited by Arthur Oilman, Riverside Lit-
erature Series.

Century XVIII

Gosse's History of English Literature in the Eighteenth Cen-
tury.

Ashton's Social Life in the Reign of Queen Anne.

Susan Hale's Men and Manners of the Eighteenth Century.

Thackeray's English Humorists.

Johnson's Lives of the Poets (see Johnson's works).

Leslie Stephen's Hours in a Library.

Macaulay's Essay on Addison, edited by W. P. Trent, Riverside
Literature Series.

De Quincey's Essay on Pope.

Lowell's Among my Books.

Eighteenth Century Letters, edited by R. B. Johnson.

Lanier's The English Novel.

Carlyle's Essay on Burns, edited by George R. Noyes, Riverside
Literature Series.

Carlyle on Burns and Scott, Cassell's National Library.

Pope. Essay on Man, edited by Mark Pattison (Clarendon Press);
Essay on Man, Rape of the Lock, etc. edited by Henry W. Boyn-
ton, Riverside Literature^eries.

Addison and Steele. The Sir Roger de Coverley Papers, edited
by Eustace Budgell, Riverside Literature Series; also edited
by Samuel Thurber, Allyn and Bacon. Selections, Athenceu)n
Press, Golden Treasury Sej-ies, etc. Selections from the Specta-
tor, edited by J. Habberton (Putnam) : from the. Tatler and the
Guardian, together with Macaulay's Essays on Steele and Ad-
dison (Bangs). Steele's plays are in the Mermaid Series.

Swift. Gulliver's Voyage to Brobdingnag and Voyage to Lilliput,
Riverside Literature Series. Selections, Ginn, Clarendon Press,
etc. Selected Letters in R. B. Johnson's Eighteenth Century Let-

262 ENGLAND'S LITERATURE

iers and Letter- Writers. Battle of the Books in Cassell's Na-
tional Library. %

Defoe. Robinson Crusoe, Riverside Literature Series ; Journal of
the Plague Year, numerous school editions. Essay on Projects,
Cassell's National Library.

Johnson. Lives of the Poets, Cassell's National Library . • Six Chief
Lives from Johnson's Lives of the Poets together with Macaulay's
Life of Johnson, edited by M. Arnold (Macmillan). Rasselas
in Morley's Universal Library; and also in Cassell's National
Library.

Goldsmith. Vicar of Wakefield, Poems, and Plays, in Morley's
Universal Library ; The Vicar of Wakefield, edited by Mrs. H.
A. Davidson, in Riverside Literature Series (with introduction,
notes, aids to study, etc.).

Burke, On Conciliation, edited by Robert Andersen, Riverside
Literature Series. American Speeches with Essay on the Sub-
lime and Beautiful (Macmillan).

Percy. Reliques of Ancient English Poetry. Bohn and other
editions.

Gray. Elegy and Other Poems ; Cowper's John Gilpin and Other
Poems (i vol.). Riverside Literature Series. Selections from
Cowper in Athenceum Press Series, Canterbury Poets, etc.

Burns. Selected poems in Riverside Literature Series ; also in
Athenceum Press Series.

CENTURY XIX

Leslie Stephen's Hours in a Library.

Saintsbury's A History of Nineteenth Century Literature.

Stedman's Victorian Poets.

Bagehot's Literary Studies (Thackeray, Dickens, Macaulay, Ten-
nyson, Browning).

McCarthy's History of Our Own Times.

Dowden's Studies in Literature (1789-1877).

Wordsworth. Selected Poems, Riverside Literature Series; also
in Golden Treasury Series ; Cassell's National Library.

Coleridge. Selections from Coleridge, in Athenaum Press Series.
Selections from Prose Writings, edited by H. A. Beers (Holt);
Selections from Coleridge and Campbell, Riverside Literature
Series.

Southey. Life of Nelson, Curse of Kehama, Cassell's National Li-

REFERENCES 263

brary. Selections in Canterbury Poets Series ; Life of Nelson in
Morley's Universal Library, also in Longmans' English Classics.

Scott. The Lady of the Lake, Cassell's National Library ; The
Lay of the Last Minstrel, edited by W. J. Rolfe, Riverside Lit-
erature Series J Ivanhoe, Riverside Literature Series.

Byron. Selected Poems, Riverside Literature Series, edited by
F. I. Carpenter (Holt).

Shelley. Selections in Heath's English Classics; also in Golden
Treasury Series.

Keats. Ode on a Grecian Urn and Other Poems, Riverside Lit-
erature Series. Endymion, etc., Cassell's National Library.
Selected Poems in Athenceum Press Series and Golden Treasury
Series.

Lamb. Tales from Shakespeare, Riverside Literature Series.
Essays of Elia, in Camelot Classics, and elsewhere. Specimens
of English Dramatic Poets, Bohn. Selected Essays, Riverside
Literature Series.

De Quincey. The Flight of a Tartar Tribe, Riverside Literature
Series. Confessions of an English Opium-Eater, Morley's Uni-
versal Library, Temple Classics. Selections, edited by Bliss
Perry (Doubleday, Page and Co.).

Macaulay. Essays on Johnson and Goldsmith (i vol.) Essays on
Milton and Addison (i vol.), Riverside Literature Series and
Cassell's National Library. Lays of Ancient Rome, Riverside
Literature Series. Heroes and Hero-Worship, in Athenceum
Press Series.

Ruskin. Sesame and Lilies, Riverside Literature Series. Selected
Essays and Letters (Ginn). Selections, edited by V. D. Scudder
(Heath).

Arnold. Sohrab and Rustum and Other Poems, Riverside Litera-
tttre Series, edited by Louise Imogen Guiney. Poems (i vol.)
(Mapmillan). Introduction to Ward's English Poets, vol. i.

Browning. The Pied Piper of Hamelin and Other Poems, River-
side Literature Series.

Tennyson. Enoch Arden and Other Poems, Riverside Literature
Series. The Princess, edited by W. J. Rolfe, Riverside Litera-
ture Series. Idylls of the King, edited by W. J. Rolfe (Hough-
ton, MifHin and Co.) ; edited by H. W. Boynton (AUyn and
Bacon).

INDEX

References to summaries and lists of names are printed in heavy type. The
location on the colored map of the places mentioned in the text is indicated

Abbotsford, tnap i, Ca ; 205 ; 206 ; 207.

A Becket, Thomas, 44.

Absalotn and Achito^hel, 148.

Abyssinia, 177.

Adam, 36, 141, 142.

Adam Bede, 229, 230.

Addison, Joseph, portrait, 159; love for
Swift, 166; Johnson compared with,
i75j '^77 \ 232. See Addison and
Steele.

Addison and Steele, account of, 158-163;

194; 195-

Address to the Deil, 192.

Adonais, 211.

jElfric, homilies of, 21, 24.

iEneas, 30.

jfSneidf Surrey's, 75 ; Dryden's, 149.

jEsop's Fables, 64.

Africa, 38, 65.

" Age or Arrest," 54.

Age of the Pen, 247-251.

Albert, Prince, 246.

Alcuin, account of, 16; 24.

Aleppo, iSo.

Alexander's Feast, 149.

Alexander the Great, in romance, 29,

34-

Alfred the Great, account of, 16-20 ;
portrait, 17; 23; 24; 83.

Allegory. See Pilgrim^s Progress,
Faerie Queene.

Alliteration, in Old English poetry, 6 ;
disappearing, 22 ; 24 ; in Piers Plow-
man, the last alliterative poem, 39,
40 ; Chaucer's use of, 49.

Amelia, in Vanity Fair, 227.

America, literature affected by discov-
eries in, 6g; by Revolution in, 186.

Ancient Mariner^ The Rime of the^
198, 252.

Ancren Riwle, The, 28, 30, 34.

Angles, I, 2.

Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, begun, 19 ; 20 ;
21 ; 23 ; 24 ; ends, 30.

Anglo-Saxon metre, 6, 7 ; used by
Langland, 39, 40 ; abandoned by
Chaucer, 49, 51.

Anglo-Saxon poetry, remains of, 8 ; 24.

Apelles* Song, 89.

Apollyon, in Pilgrim^s Progress, 144.

Arcadia, 86-88 ; printed, 92 ; loi.

Arctic Ocean, 81.

Arctic Circle, 184.

Areopagitica, \2.\-i2.2..

Armada, Spanish, 92.

Armour, Jean, 191.

Arnold, Dr., 238.

Arnold, Mattiiew, 230 ; account of, 238-
239 ; 252; 254; 255.

Arthur, in cycle of romance, 29 ; 30 ;
34 ; 54 ; 66 ; Milton's proposed epic
of, 140 ; 245.

Asia, 180, 220.

Ask Me no More, 132, 133.

Astrophel and Stella, 94.

Aurora Leigh, 241.

Austen, Jane, 203 ; account of, 221-222;
252; 254.

Austen, Lady, 188.

Author, a mediaeval, at work, illustra-
tion, 15.

" Authorized version." See Bible.

Avon River, map i, CDb ; 95; 96;
106.

Aylmar, in A'ing Horn, 30.

Bacon, Francis, account of, 106-109 ;
150 ; 151 ; 161.

Ballads, early, 21-22, 24; of Robin
Hood, 32-33, 34; of the fifteenth cen-
tury, 55-56'; marks of, 56-57; Celtic
influence on, 57, 67 ; in sixteenth cen-
tury, 81; in Percy's Reliques, 187;
of Coleridge and Wordsworth, 198;
of the Scottish Border, 204-205.

Baltic Sea, 16.

Banks d* Doon, 191.

Bannockburn, 191.

266

INDEX

Barrett, Elizabeth, 239-240. See Eliz-
abeth Barrett Browning,

Bassanio, in The Merchant of Venice,
100.

Bastile, 174.

Battle of the Books, 164.

Baxter, Richard, account of, 131-132 ;

151-

Beaumont, Francis, 105. See Beaumont
and Fletcher.

Beaumont and Fletcher, their skill in
plots, no ; account of, 114; 150; 151.

Becky Sharp, in Vanity Pair, 227.

Bede, account of, 12-16; 18; 19; 23-
24.

Bedford, map i, Db ; 144 ; 146.

Bentley, Richard, criticises Pope's
Iliad, 157.

Beowulf, story of, 3-5 ; facsimile of
MS., 5; changed by Christianity, 5-6 ;
lines from, 6 ; 8 : compared with The
Dream of the Rood, 23 ; 24 ; treat-
ment of woman in, 31 ; 40 ; 250.

Bible, paraphrased by Ceedmon, 10 ;
translated by Wyclif, 41-43 ; trans-
lated by Tyndale, 73, lOi ; " King
James version," 109-110; 151; basis
of Paradise Lost, 141 ; Bunyan's
knowledge of, 145; 193; Ruskinuses
vocabulary of, 237.

Bird, The, 128.

Black Death, 36, 40, 50.

Black-wood^ s Magazine, 213, 218, 221,
229, 253.

Blank verse, 75 ; gaining ground in the
drama, 89 ; its power shown by Mar-
lowe, 90 ; becomes accepted metre of
the drama, 102.

Blenheim, 159.

Blessed Damozel, The, 248.

Blue-Coat School, 214, 217.

Boccaccio, 44, 51.

Boldness in thought, 72 ; in literature,
81, loi.

Bonaparte, 206.

Book of Snobs, 226.

Boswell, James, account of, 177-178 ;

195-

Boswell, Mrs., 178.
Bride of Abydos, The, 209.
Britton's Bower of Delights, 88.
Brobdingnag, in Gulliver^s Travels,

165, 166.
Browning, Elizabeth Barrett, 240, 241,

242, 255.
Browning, Robert, account of, 239-243 ;

portrait, 240 ; 250 ; 252 ; 255.
Brut, 30, 34.
Brutus, 30.

Bunyan, John, account of, 143-146 ; por-
trait, 143 ; 151 ; 152.

Burke, Edmund, 178 ; 181 ; account of,
183-184; 194; 195.

Burns, Robert, 128 ; account of, 189-
194; 196; 197; 250.

Butler, Samuel, account of, 139-140 ;

151; 152-
Byron, Lord, 202, 203, 205 ; account of,
207-210; 211; 213; 214; 218; 222;
223; 252; 253.

Cabots, the, 65, 67.

Csedmon, account of, S-io; in Bede's

Ecclesiastical History, 14 ; 23 ; 24.
Cain, 6.
Calais, 202.
Calvinists, 164.
Cambridge, map i, Eb; 68; 90; 119;

135; 186.
Canterbury, map 1, Ec.
Canterbury Tales, account of, 44-49 ;

51 , printed by Caxton, 64.
Canute, poem of, 22.
Carew, Thomas, account of, 132-133 ;

151-
Caricature, employed by Dickens, 225.
Carlyle, Mrs., 230.
Carlyle, Thomas, 229 ; 230 ; account

of, 233-235 ; 236 ; 252 ; 254.
Cash, in Ben Jonson's works, 112.
Cato, 162-163.

"Cavalier Poets," 132; 134; 150; 151.
Caxton, William, 54 ; presented to Ed-
ward IV, illustration, t-^ ; introduces

printing, 64 ; 67.
Celestial City, in Pilgrim^s Progress,

144, 145.
Celts, driven west and north by the

Teutons, 1-2 ; learn Christianity, 5 ;

literature influenced by, 22-23, 24,

57, 67; 81.
Century of Prose, 153-196.
Century of the Novel, 197-255.
Channel, 138.
Chapman, George, no.
Charlemagne, 16, 17, 32; romance of,

29, 34-
Charles I, 117, 122, 124, 132, 138.
Charles II, returns to England, 124;

130 ; 140 ; feeling towards dissenters,

144 ; welcomed by Dryden, 146.
Chaucer, Geoffrey, 33 ; account of, 43-

50 ; portrait, 49 ; 51 ; imitators of, 52-
^:ii\ 54; 56; 66; 68; 85; 135.
Chaucer's Century,35-5i.
Chesterfield, Lord, 176-177.
Chettle, Henry, writes of Shakespeare,

INDEX

267

Chevy Chase^ 56.

Childe Harold, 205, 207, 208, 253.

Christadel, 200.

Christian, in Pilgrim's Progress^ 144,

145.
Christmas Eve and Easter Day^ 242.
" Christopher North," 218. See Wilson,

John.
Chronicle^ Anglo-Saxon, 30.
Chronicles, become interesting, 28 ;

34-

Church, after Alfred's death, 21 ; after
the Black Death, 36, 37, 51 ; owns
much land, 55.

Church, dedication of a Saxon, illustra-
tion, 20.

Church of England, separates from
Church of Rome, 74, lOi ; in contro-
versy with the Puritans, 95 ; rebuked
by Milton, 121 ; defended by Dryden,
149; 163.

Church Porch, The, 126.

City of Destruction, in Pilgrim's Pro-
gress, 144.

Civil War, 137, 171.

Clarissa Harlowe, 173.

Clement, in Ben Jonson's works, 112.

Clergy, teach by mystery plays, 57, 58,

67.

Cloudy The, 210.
Coffee drinking, 153, 194.
Coleridge, Samuel Taylor, ig8, 199, 200-
201 ; portrait, 201 ; 208 ; 214 ; 223 ;

252-253-

Colonel Newcome, in The Newcomes,
228.

Columbus, 65, 67, 69.

Comedy of Errors, The, 98.

Commons, House of, 55. See Parlia-
ment.

Commonwealth, religious Writings dur-
ing the, 129, 151.

Compleat Angler, Tlie, \y]-ii%; 152.

Compound words liked ijy the Teu-
tons, 7.

Comus, 120, 121.

" Conceits," of Herbert, 126 ; of
Vaughan, 127; of Donne, 119, 151.

Confessions of an English Opium-
Eater, 218, 253.

Constantinople, captured by the Turks,
68.

Continent of Europe, 134, 180, 208.

Copernicus, 69.

Corinna's Going a-Maying, 135-136.

Correctness. See Form.

Corsair, The, 209.

Cotter's Saturday Night, The, 193-194,
ig6.

Countess of Pemtroke' s Arcadia. See

Arcadia,
Coventry, map 1, Db.
Cowper, William, account of, 187-189;

194; igG.,
Craigenputtock, map i, Ca ; 234.
Cranford, 249.
Crashaw, Richard, 124; account of,

126-127 ; 150; 151.
Cr^cy, 36.
Criticism, in Queen Anne's time, 171,

195-

Cromwell, Oliver, 122 ; Milton writes
in his honor, 123 ; eulogized by Dry-
den, 146.

Cross, Mary Ann Evans. See " George
Eliot."

Crossing the Bar, 247.

Crusades, 27, 29, 34, 35, 36.

Cry of the Children, The, 239-240.

Curse of Kehama, The, 200.

Cycles, of mystery plays, 58, 59.

Cym.beline, 103.

Cynewulf, account of, 10-12 ; 23 ; 24.

Da Gama, Vasco, 65, 67.

Damascus, 250.

Danes, in Beowulf, 3 ; invade North-

umbria, 16, 17 ; 19 ; 20 ; 21 ; 24.
Dante, 44.

Darwin, Charles, 248.
David Copper/ield, 225.
Davidson, Betty, 189.
Davis's Straits, 184.
Dead Sea, 38.
Decadence of Elizabethan drama, 115-

116, 151.
Decay of Beggars in the Metropolis,

217.
Delectable Mountains, in Pilgrim's

Progress, 144.
Delights of the Muses, 126.
Denmark, 3.

Dear's Lament, 7, 8, 23.
De Quincey, Thomas, 203, 214 ; ac-

coimt of, 217-221 ;portrait, 2195223;

252 ; 253.
Deserted Village, The, 182, 187.
Destruction, the City of, in Pilgrim's

Progress, 144.
Deucalion, 237.
Devotional books, in thirteenth century,

28.
Defence of the English People, 122,

140.
Defoe, Daniel, 163 ; account of, 167-

171; portrait, 169 ; 194; 195; 222.
Dekker, Thomas, 110.
Dickens, Charles, account of, 223-226 ;

268

INDEX

portrait, 224 ; Thackeray compared

with, 226-227 ; 22S; 229; 252; 254.

Dictionary^ Johnson's, 175, ijh-ijy,

183, 195-
Disdain Returned, 133.
Disraeli, Benjamin, 250.
Dissertation on Roast Pig^ A^ 217.
Diverting History of John Gilpin^ The^

188.
Don Juan, 209.
Donne, John, account of, 117-119;

Walton's Lifeof, 137 ; 150; 151 ; 211.
Doubting Castle, in Pilgrim's Progress,

144.
Douglas, in the ballads, 204.
Downright, in Ben Jonson's works, 112,

,114.

Drama, early Elizabethan, 82; later
Elizabethan, Z^, loi ; need of a
standard verse, 89, lOi ; the classic,
111 ; decadence 01 the Elizabethan,
115-116; 151; of Greeks imitated by
Milton, 142 ; of the Restoration, 146-
147; 152; 250.

Dream Children, 217.

Dream of Fair Women, A^ 244.

Dream of the Rood, The, 11, 12, 23.

Dryden, John, account of, 146-150;
151; 152; 153; 171.

Dublin, 163.

Dumfries, map i, Ca; 192.

Dunciad, The^ 157-158.

Dunstan, 21, 24.

Dutch, Dryden writes on war with, 147.

Early English Period, 1-24.

Early English poetry, 1-12 ; form of, 6 ;

as a whole, 12 ; 23 ; 24.
Earthly Paradise, The^ 248.
East India House, 214, 216.
Ecclesiastical History, 14, 18, 19, 24.
Ecclesiastical Polity, 95, 102.
Eden, 141.
Edinburgh, wa/ I, Ca ; 180; 190; 191;

203 ; 204; 220.
Edinburgh Review, 208, 221, 231, 253.
Edinburgh, University of, 233.
Edward II, Marlowe's, 90, 91,
Edward K, More's Life of, 72.
Edward VI, 78.
Elegy in a Country Churchyard, 186,

ig6.
Elixir, 125.
Elizabeth, Queen, 71, 79, 82, 86, 91, 92 ;

at Kenilworth, 96 ; England during

reign of, 80 ; loi ; death of, 103 ; 106 ;

117.
Ehzabeth, granddaughter of Shake-

speare, 106.

Elizabethan Age, literary debt to Skel-
ton, 71; Englandduring, 80 • literary
boldness, Si ; early drama of, 82 ; in-
spiration lingers, 103; vanishes, 150;
romances of, 171.

Ely, map i, Eb ; 22.

Emma, 222.

Emmanuel's Land, in Pilgrim^s Pro-
gress, 144.

Endymion J 21^, 253.

England, named from the Angles, 2;
Bede's history of, 14 ; Goldsmith's,
180; Hume's, 185; Macaulay's, 232,
254 ; at the death of Alfred, 20 ; con-
quered by William, 23, 25 ; visited by
the Black Death, 36, 40; feudal
system in, 35 ; increases in strength,
80, 81, lOI.

England^s Helicon, 88.

English Bards and Scotch Reviewers,
20S.

English Humourists, 228.

English language, Old English com-
pared with modern English, 6 ; used
by Bede, 15 ; of the ninth century, 18 ;
as used by Alfred, t8, 19 ; as used by
Chaucer, 50 ; struggle between French
and, English, 26; after the Conquest,
27 ; fears of its disappearance, 109.

Enoch Arden, 247, 255.

Ensham, 21.

Epic, growth of, 3 ; Milton's proposed
British, 140; ancient epics, 69.

Essay of Dramatic Poesy, 149.

Essay on Criticism, 155.

Essay on Man, 158.

Essay on Milton, 231, 232, 254.

Essay on Projects, 168.

Essays, Bacon's, 107-108.

Essays of Elia, 216, 253.

Ethelwulf, 20.

Euphues, 82, 86, lOl.

Euphuism, 83 ; used by Shakespeare, 98.

Europe, ancient MSS. carried through-
out, 68 ; aroused by Renaissance and
discoveries, 69.

Eve, 36, 141.

Eve of St. Agnes, 213.

Eve of St. John, 204.

Every Man in His Humour, no.

Everyman, 62, 63 ; scene from, illustra-
tion, 6r ; 67.

Excalibur, in Malory, 54,

Exeter, map i, Cc, 8.

Exeter Book, 8, 24.

Faerie Queene, read to Raleigh, 92 ;
symbolism of, 93 ; beauties of, 94 ;

98; xoa.

INDEX

269

Faithful, in Pilgrim^s Progress, 145.

" Father of English Poetry," 43, 48.

Faustus^ the Tragical History of Dr .^
90.

Fergusson, Robert, 190.

Ferrex and Porrex^ 79. See Gorbodiic.

Feudal system, 35.

Fielding, Henry, 173, 194, 195,221,227.

First English comedy, 78, loi.

First English tragedy, 79, lOl.

First Folio, 115.

First poet laureate, 114.

First printed English book, 64.

First real novel, 172, 195.

Fletcher, John. See Beaumont and
Fletcher.

Flight of a Tartar Tribe, The, 220.

Florence, 44.

Ford, John, no.

Form, attention to, needed by English
literature, 82, lOi ; introduced by
Wyatt and Surrey, 74, 75 ; shown by
Lyly, Spenser, and Sidney, 82, loi ;
influence of French care for, 146-147,
152; Pope's care for, 158.

Forsaken Merman, The, 238.

Foure P^s, The, 77.

Four Georges, The, 228.

France, borrows Alcuin, 16 ; sends
teachers to England, iS ; invaded by
Normans, 25 ; 30 ; 43 ; Reign of
Terror in, 184 ; Revolution in, affects
literature, 186; 197-198.

Fraser's Magazine^ 226, 234.

Frederick II, Carlyle's History of the
Life and Times of 235.

Freeman, Edward Augustus, 248.

" Free verse," 75. See blank verse.

French, learned by the English, 26;
History of the Kings of Britain trans-
lated into^ 30; Mandeville^s Travels
written in, 38 ; used by Chaucer, 43,
49 ; models followed by the English,
68, 146-147, 152; 155.

French Revolution, Burke's Reflections
on the, 184.

French Revolution, Carlyle's History
of the, 234.

Froude, James Anthony, 24S.

Fuller, Thomas, 129-130, 151, 205.

Fuller's Worthies, 130. '

Galahad, 245.

Gaskel], Elizabeth Cleghom, 249.

Gazetteer, position of, 160.

Genesis, 141.

Geoffrey of Monmouth, 29, 34.

George I, 163.

George IV, 206.

"George Eliot," account of, 228-230;

252; 254.
German Ocean, 8.
Germany, early home of the Teutons, i ;

23 ; printing in, 64 ; effect of the

Renaissance upon, 69, ']'if ; refuge of

Tyndale, 73 ; 1S4 ; 199.
Giant Despair, in Pilgrim's Progress^

144.
Gibbon, Edward, 184 ; account of, 185 ;

.194; 195-

Girondists, 197.

Glasgow, map l, Ba; University of,

235-
Glastonbury, mafi i, Cc; 21.
Globe Theatre, 105.
Goldsmith, Oliver, account of, 179-183 ;

portrait, 181 ; 1S7 ; Cowper compared

with, 188; 194; 195; 196,
Good-Natured Man, The, 182.
Goody Two Shoes, 180.
Gorboduc, 79 ; compared with Ralph

Roister Doister,%o; 82; lOI.
Gospel of St. John, Bede's translation

of, 15, 19, 24.
Gospels, in the " authorized version,"

109.
Grail. See Holy Grail.
Gray's Elegy, 186, 187, 196.
Gray, Thomas, account" of, 186-187;

194; 196.
Great Fire of London, 147.
Great Hoggarty Diamond, The, 226.
Greek, dances loved by Herrick, 135 ;

drama and Samson Agonistes, 142 ;

language studied by Shakespeare, 96 ;

literature known to Surrey and

Wyatt, 74 ; mythology, 212 ; restraint

of Arnold, 238-239, 255.
Greeks, flee to Italy, 68 ; ancient writ-
ings of, 68 ; modern, helped by Byron,

210, 253.
Green, John Richard, 248.
Grendel, in Beowulf, 3, 4, 5.
Greville, Fulke, 92.
Guardian, The, 162, 195.
Gulliver's Travels, 165-166; 195.

Hallam, Arthur Henry, 245.
Hamlet, 103.
Handsome Nell, 189.
Harry Bailey, in Canterbury Tales, 45.
Hastings, Waruen, 183-184, 232.
Hathaway, Anne, 96.
Hebrides, 179.

Henry VIII, 70-76, 78, 101, passim.
Henry Esmond, 228.
Herbert, George, account of, 124-126;
portrait of, 125 ; model of Vaughan,

270

INDEX

128; Walton's Life of 137; 13S ;

150; 151-

Heroes and Nero-Worship^ 235.
Herrick. Robert, 132; account of, 134-

137; 151 ; 152.

Hesperides^ The, 135-136.

Hester^ 216.

Heywood, John, 77,78, lOO, loi.

Hilda, 9.

Hind and the Panther, The, 149.

Histor]^ of America, Robertson's, 184.

History of England, Goldsmith's, 180.

History of England, Hume's, 185.

History of England, Macaulay's, 232,

254.

History of Scotland during the Beigns

of Queen Mary and fames the Sixth,

Robertson's, 184.
History of the Decline and Fall of the

Roman Empire, Gibboa's, 1S5.
History of the French Revolution,

Carlyle's, 234.
History of the Kings of Britain, 29.
History of Life and Times of Frederick

II, Carlyle's, 235, 254.
History of the World, 106 ; progress of,

250.
Holy and Prof ane State, The, 129.
Holy Grail, 30.
Holy Land, 35.

Holy Living and Holy Dying, 130.
Homer, Pope compared with, 156.
Homilies, 21, 24.
Hooker, Richard, account of, 95 ; lOO ;

102.

Hottentot, 176.

Hours of Idleness, 208.

House of the Interpreter, in Pilgrim^s

Progress, 144.
Hrothgar, in Beowulf 3, 4.
Hudibras,\y:^-\6p\ 152.
Hudson's Bay, 184.
Humber River, map i, DEb; 17.
Hume, David, 184, 194, 195.
Hundred Years' War, 36, 50, 54, 66.
Hunt, Leigh, 214.
Huxley, Thomas, 248.
Hymn on the Morning of ChrisVs

Nativity, 1 19-120.
Hymns, Addison's, 163 ; Cowper's, 188.

Idylls of the King, 246, 255.
Ignorance, in Pilgrim^ s Progress, 145.
Iliad, translated by Pope, 156.
// Penseroso, 120.
India, 180, 184, 226, 232.
In Memoriam, 245, 255.
Inquisition, Spanish, 134.
Instauratio Magna, 108-iog.

Interpreter, the, in Pilgrim's Progress,

144.
Interludes, 76, 'j'j, loi.
Ireland, 14 ; famous schools in, 22 ;

Spenser in, 91 ; 92 ; Addison in, 160.
Italy, resort of the English clergy, 37 ;

visited by Chaucer, 43 ; literature of,

compared with that of England, 43,

44, 68 ; sought by Greek scholars, 68 ;

effect of the Renaissance upon, 69 ;

literature of, known to Surrey and

Wyatt, 74 ; home of blank verse, 80 ;

tales and romances of, brought to

England, Si ; 213 j 240.
Ivanhoe, 228, 230.

Jack, in The Tale of a Tub, 163.

Jamaica, 190.

James I, of England, 92, 103 ; imprisons

Raleigh, 106 ; 108 ; praised in

masques, 113; his court, 116; 117 j

124.
James I, of Scotland, 52, 53, 66.
Jarrow, map 1, Da; 12, 13.
Jeffrey, Francis, 208, 221, 253.
Jew of Malta, The, 90.
John Gilpin, 188.
John of Trevisa, 26.
Johnson, Samuel, account of, 175-179;

portrait, 175; 180; 181; 183; 194;

195; 232.
Jonson, Ben, 106 ; account of, 110-116 ;

portrait, 11 t ; criticises Donne, 118;

influence of, 119; 150; 151 ; 153.
Joseph Andrews, 227.
Juan Fernandez, 169.
Jutes, I.
Jutland, I, 23.

Journal of the Plague Year, 170.
Journey to the Hebrides, 179.

Keats, John, 202, 203, 210, 211 ; account
of, 212-214; portrait, 212; 218; 223;
252; 253.

Kenilworth, m.ap i, Db ; 96 : 207.

Kildare, 13.

King Horn, 30-31.

" King James Version." See Bible.

King Lear, 103.

"King Monmouth," 167.

Kings of Britain, 29.

King's Quair, The, 53.

" Kinsey," 218.

Knighthood, decreases in value, 55, 67.

Kno'well, in Ben Jonson's Works, 112.

Kubla Khan, 200.

Lady Clara Vere de Vere, 244.
Lady Jane Grey, 130.

INDEX

271

"Lady of Christ's College," 119.
Lady to Her Inconstant Servant^ The^

132.
Lake Country, 197, 199, 202, 214, 218.
"Lake Poets," 197, 203, 252.
"Lake School," 197.
V Allegro^ 120.
Lamb, Charles, no; 203; account of,

214-217; portrait, 215; 2x8; 223;

252 ; 253 ; 255.

Lamb, Mary, 214, 216.
Lamia, 213.

Langland, William, account of, 39-41 ;

43 ; 50-

Language. See English language.

Lasswade, 220.

Last Days of Pompeii, 249.

Latin, language of scholars and the
church, 15 ; priests' ignorance of, 17;
compared with English, 18 ; used by
Geoffrey of Monmouth, 29 ; aban-
doned by Wyclif, 42 ; literature
known to Surrey and Wyatt, 74 ;
Shakespeare's knowledge of, 96 ; ex-
pected permanence of, 109.

Launcelot, 29, 30, 245 ; and a hermit,
illustration, 29,

Laureate, Jonson, 114; Southey, 200;
Wordsworth, 203 ; Tennyson, 245,
246 ; Tennyson's laureate poems, 246,

255-

Lay of the Last Minstrel, The, 205,

208, 253.
Layamon, 30, 34.
Lays of Ancient Rome, 232.
Letters from a Citizen of the World,

180.
Leyden, iSo.

Lichfield, map i, Db ; 175.
Lilliput, in Gulliver's Travels, 165, 166.
Litany, Herrick's, 136.
Literary Club, \']%-\%2., passim..
" Literary Dictator of England " (John-
son), 178.
Little Nell, in Dickens's works, 224-

225.
Lives of saints, 21, 23, 24.
Lives of the Poets, 175, 179, 195.
Lives, Walton's, 137.
Locksley Hall, 244.
London, map 1, Ec ; 95, 96, 97, 98,

105, no; Great Fire of, 147; 159;

161; 173; 176; 179; 180; 218;

226; 229; 235.
London Magazine, 2t8.
Lost Leader, The, 2.\z.
Lotus-Eaters^ The, 244,
Lovelace, Richard, 132, 133; account

of, 134; 151.

Love's Labour 'j Lost, 98.

Lucrece, 98.

Ludlow Castle, map i, Cb; 121.

Lutherans, 163.

Lycidas, 120, J2i.

Lyell, Sir Charles, 248.

Lyly, John, account of, 82-83 ; 89 ;

100; lOI.
Lyrical Ballads, 198-199.
Lyrics, after the Conquest, 31-32, 34 ;

of the dramatists, 90, loi, 102 ; of

Burns, 92 ; progress of lyric poetry,

250. See Hymns.
Lytton, Edward Bulwer, 249.

*
Macaulay, Thomas Babington, account,
230-233; portrait, 231; 248; 252;

254-

Magellan, 69.

Maggie, in The Mill on the Floss, 229,

230.
Malory, Sir Thomas, 53, 54, 64, 66, 245.
Mandeville, Sir John, account of, 37-

39 ; on his voyage, illustration, 38 ;

50.
March, Earl of, 26.
Marlborough, Duke of, 159.
Marlowe, Christopher, account of, 90-

91 ; 95; 100; 102.
Marmion, 205, 20S, 253.
Martin, in The Tale of a Tub, 163.
Mary Queen of Scots, 79, 91.
Mary. See William and Mary.
Masque of Oberon, 113.
Masques, account of, 76-77 ; lOI ; of

Jonson, 113.
May Queen, The, 244.
Men and Women, 242.
Merchant of Venice^The, 99, 100.
Mermaid Inn, 105.
Metre, Old English, 5, 7 ; of ballads,

57, 67 ; of early Elizabethan drama,

82 ; need of a standard, 89, lOl ;

blank verse triumphs, 90, 102 ; 5-

beat line, 171; influence of Pope's,

171, 195-

" Michael Angelo Titmarsh " (Thack-
eray), 226.

Middle Ages, 212,

Middlemarch, 229.

Midland dialect, employed by Chaucer,
50, 51.

Midsummer Nighfs Dream, A, 98.

Mill on the Floss, The, 229.

Milton, John, account of (before 1660),
119-123; after 1660, 123-124; por-
trait, 119; Herbert compared with,
125 ; later years of, 140-143 ; sonnet
on his blindness, 142 ; Bunyan com-

272

INDEX

pared with, 143, 146; Dryden com-
pared with, 149-150; 152.

Minstrels, a band of, illustration, 22-

Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border ^ The,
205.

Miracle plays, 61, 66, 67. See Myste-
ries.

Miscellanies, the Elizabethan, 88, lOi.
See ToiteVs Miscellany.

Missalonghi, 210.

Missionaries, from Rome, 6 ; from Ire-
land, 8 ; Beowulf changed by the
teachings of, 6, 24.

Modern Painters, 236.

Modest Proposal, A, 1^5.

Monk at work, illustration, 13.

Monks, disobedience of the, 21.

Monthly Magazine, 224.

Moral Essays, Po-pQ^s, 158.

Moralities, account of, 61-63 ! ^^ ; 67 ;
76; 82; loi ; 112.

More, Sir Thomas, account of, 71-74 ;
portrait, 72; yy ; 100; lOl.

Morris, William, 248.

Morte d'Arthur, 54 ; printed byCaxton,
64; 66; as treated by Tennyson, 245.

Moses, in The Vicar of Wakefield^
224.

Moslems, 39.

Mr. Micawber, in Dickens's works, 225.

Mr. Minns and his Cousin^ 224.

Mtmera Pulveris, 236.

Murder Considered as Ofie of the Fine
Arts, 220.

Music, in the Elizabethan days, Sg.

Mystery plays, account of, 57-61; 76;
illustration, 58; 61; 66; 76; 82;
lOl. See Miracle plays.

Nature, loved by the Normal-English,
31 ; by Milton, 120; by Surrey, 120;
by Vaughan, 128 ; by Taylor, 131 ; in
the eighteenth century, 186; inter-
preted by Wordsworth, 202-203.

NelsoJi^ Southe3''s Life of 200.

Netherlands, 110.

Newcomes^ The, 228.

Newman, John Henry, 248 ; portrait,
249.

New Place, 105.

"New poet " (Spenser), 85.

New Testament^ Tyndale's translation
of, y^, 1 01.

New World, 81, 92.

Night Piece, 136.

Nilus, 187.

Noble Numbers, 135, 136, 137.

"Noll" (Goldsmith), 180.

Norman Conquest, a gain to England,

25 ; effect on language, 26, 27, 34;
etfect on literature, 27, 34, 58, 68,
248.

Norman-English Period, 25-34.

Normans, character of, 25, 27, 28, 29.

North America, 69, lOI.

Northumbria, lo^ 12, 14, 16, 17; Chris-
tianity taught in, 22.

Northwest Passage, 69.

Norton, Thomas, 79, lOO, lOl.

Novel, Century of the, 197-255 ; re-
quirements of the, 171-172; first real
novel, 172, 195.

Novum Organutn, log.

Ode on the Death of the Duke of "Wel-
lington, 246.

Ode on the Intimations of Immortality^
203.

Ode to a Grecian Urn, 213.

Ode to the Pillory, 168.

Ode to the West Wind, 211.

Odin, I.

Odyssey, translated by Pope, 156.

Old English compared with modern
English, 6.

Old Familiar Faces, The, 216.

Old Testament, translated by Tyndale,

n- ^

Oliver Twist, 224.
Olney, map i, Db ; 188.
On the Late Massacre in Piemont, 123.
On the Study of Poetry, 239.
On the Sublime and Beautiful, 183.
Origin of Species, 248.
Orm, 28.

Ormulum, 28, 30, 34.
Orosius, 18.

Oxford, map i, Dc ; University of, 26,
68, 95, J08, 210, 218, 236.

Pacific, visited by English sailors, 81.
Padua, 180.

Pamela, 172-173, 195, 227.
Pamphlets, of Milton, 121-122, 151;

of Swift, 764.
Paracelsus, 241.
Paradise Lost, 141-143, 150, 152, 231,

250.
Paradise of Dainty Devices, The, 88.
Paradise Regained, 142.
Paris, 180.
Parliament, submits to Henry Vlll, 73 ;

takes Defoe seriously, 168 ; 223 ; 232.
Parson, the, in Chaucer, illustration,

48.
Pastime with Good Company, 70.
Pastorals, 83, 84, 86, 88, loi, 113.
Pater, Walter, 24S.

INDEX

273

Patronage, literary, ended by Johnson,
176-177, 195.

Peasants' Revolt, 37, 50.

Pembroke, Countess of, 86.

Pen, Age of the, 247-251.

People's Century, 52-67.

Percy, Bishop Thomas, 187 ; 204.

Percy's Reliques^ 187, ig6, 204.

Peridiocals, the beginning of, 171, 195.

Peter, in The Tale of a Tub^ 163.

Peter Bellj 203.

Petrarch, 44.

Phenix' Nest, The, 88.

Phyllyp Sparowe, 71.

Picaresque stories of Defoe, 171.

Pickwick Papers, The, 224, 254.

Pied Piper of Hamelin, The, 2\2.

Piers Plowman, Vision of, 39-41, 50.

Pilgrimages in Chaucer's time, 44.

Pilgrim' s Progress, The, 143, 144-146,
150, 152, 171, 231.

Pippa Passes, 241.

Plague Year, Defoe's Journal of the,
171.

Plautus, comedies of, 78.

Pliable, in Pilrim's Progress, 143.

Poems, Chiefly Lyrical, 244.

Poets' Corner, illustration, 251.

Poland, 86.

Pope, Alexander, account of, 153-158
portrait, 154; love for Swift, 166
171 ; influence upon literature, 171
Goldsmith compared with, 182
Pope's ideas of nature, 187, 189

194-195; '96.

Portia, in The Merchant of Venice,
100.

Powell, Mary, 122.

Prague, 86.

Preeterita, 237.

Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood, 248.

"Prewdence," Herrick's maid, 135.

Pride and Prejudice, 222.

Princess, The, 245.

Principles of Geology, 248.

Printing introduced into England, 63-
65 ; early printing press, illustration,
65 ; 67 ; spreads knowledge of the
classics, 69; office of 1619, illustra-
tion, 123.

Prioress, The, in Canterbury Tales,
illustration, 45.

Prisoner of Chillon, The, 209.

Prologue, Chaucer's, 46, 47.

Prometheus Unbound, 210.

Proper names, Marlowe's use of , 91 .

Prose, Old EngUsh, 12-21 ; 24 ; in
Lyly's dramas, 89 ; becomes literature
in Hooker's Ecclesiastical Polity,

95; Century of, 153-196; of early
periodicals, 171; progress of, 250.

Prospice, 242, 250.

Psalms, in the " authorized version,"
log.

Pulley, The, 126.

Punch, 226.

Puritan, 131.

Puritans, in controversy with the
Church of England, 95 ; power of,
increases, 116-117; against the king,
121; confidence of, in Milton, 122;
lose power, 123-124; 134; oppose
amusements, 139, 151 ; caricatured
in Hudibras, 139, 152 ; and Royal-
ists, Century of the, 103-152.

Put Yourself in His Place, 249.

Quarterly Review, criticises Keats,

213; established, 221; 253.
Queen Anne, times of, 155, 158, 163;

171, 195-

Rabbi Ben Ezra, 242.
Raleigh, Sir Walter, as a colonizer, 92 ;
visits Spenser, 92; account of, T06;

151.

Ralph Roister Doister, 78 ; compared

with Gorboduc, 80; lOI.
Rambler, The, 177.
Ramsay, Allan, 190.
Rape of the Lock, The, 155-156, 157.
Rasselas, 177.
Reade, Charles, 249.
Rebecca, in Ivanhoe, 230.
Rebecca and Rowena, 228.
Recuyell of the Historyes of Troye,

64.
Red Cross Knight, in the Faerie

Queene, illustration, 93.
R^ections on the French Revolution,

184.
Reform Bill, 223.
Reign of Terror, 184.
Religio Laid, 148, 149.
Reliques of Ancient English Poetry,

186, 196, 204.
Renaissance, 68, 69, 70, 74, 75, lOI.
Restoration, The, 138-139; drama of,

146-147, 152.
" Retouching" of plays, 97, 98, no.
Revelation, in the "authorized ver-
sion," no, 141.
Revolution, French, 198.
Rewriting of old poems, in Alfred's

time, 21, 24 ; to make pastorals, 86.
Reynolds, Sir Joshua, 178, 181.
Rhone, described by Ruskin, 237-238.
Rhyme, contrasted with alliteration, 6;

274

INDEX

used by Chaucer, 51 ; used by the

dramatists, 89.
Rhyme of the Duchess May^ 240.
" Rhyme royal," 53.
Richard III, M ore's Life of 72.
Richardson, Samuel, account of, 172-

173; portrait, 172; Goldsmith reads

proof for, 180; 194; 195; 221.
Riddles, of Cynewulf, 11.
*' Rime-giver," 7.
Rime of the Ancient Mariner, 198-199,

252.
Ring and the Book^ The, 242, 255.
Kiver of Death, in Pilgrim^s Progress,

144.
Robertson, William, account of, 184;

185 ; 194 ; 195.
Robin Hood ballads, 32-33, 34, 204.
Robinson Crusoe ^ 167 ; account of, 169-

170; 171 ; 195.
Roderick Random^ 174, 195.
Roman Catholic Church. See Church

of Rome.
Roman Empire, Gibbon's History of
the Decline and Fall of the, 185.
Romances, 29-31, 34.
Romans, 14; writings of, 6S; in plays
of Shakespeare and Ben Jonson, 112,
Romantic revival, 185-1S6, 196.
Rome, missionaries from, 6 ; visited by
abbot of Jarrow, 13 ; Bede sends to,
14; visited by Alfred, 17, 42; plays
of Shakespeare and Ben Jonson laid
in, 112 ; 211 ; 212.
Romeo and Juliet, 100.
Romola. 229.

Rossetti, Dante Gabriel, 248.
Round Table, 245.
Rowena, in Ivanhoe, 230.
Royalists, 122, 134; Century of Puri-
tans and, T03-152.
Rugby, map i, Db ; 238.
Rugby Chapel, 239.
Runes, 10.

Ruskin, John, 230 ; account of, 235-
238 ; Arnold compared with, 238 ;
252; 253; 254.
Rymenhild, in King Horn, 31.

Sackville, Thomas, 79, lOO, lOl.

Sad Shepherd, The, 113.

Saint Cecilia's Day, 149.

St. Patrick's Cathedral, 164.

St. Paul's, 117.

Saints^ Everlasting Rest ^ The, 131.

Samson Agonistes ^ 142.

Saracens, in King Horn, 30, 31.

Sartor Resartus, 234, 235.

Satan, in the homilies, 21 ; in the mys-

tery plays, 59, 60; in the moralities,
62, 64 ; in Paradise Lost, 141.

Satire, of Dryden, 148; of Pope, 157-
158; of Swift, 163-164, 165; of
Defoe, 167.

Saxon, church, dedication of, illustra-
tion, 20: wordsusedby Ruskin, 237.

Saxons, \.

Scenes from Clerical Life, 229.

School, Bede's. 12 ; schools in Ireland,
22.

Scop, 2-3.

Scotch, Johnson's prejudice against,
176.

Scotland, 52 ; home of the ballads, 57 ;
oats in, 1 76 ; visited by Johnson, 1 79 ;
Robertson's History of 184; love of
nature in poets of, 186; 189; 190;

195-

Scott, Sir Walter, 202 ; portrait, 204 ;
account of, 203-207 ; 208 ; 214 ; 222 ;
223 ; 230 ; ** George Eliot " compared
with, 230; 252; 253.
Selkirk, Alexander, 169.
Seneca, read in England, 79.
Sentimental Journey, The, 174-175.
Sequence of sonnets, 94.
Sesame and Lilies, 237.
Shakespeare, John, 95-96.
Shakespeare, William, 79 ; Marlowe
compared with, 92 ; account of, 95-
100 ; portrait, 99 ; 102 ; in the seven-
teenth century, 103-106, 110; aids
Ben Jonson, iii ; contrasted with
Ben Jonson, iii, 112; contrasted
with Beaumont and Fletcher, 114;
plays collected and printed, 115;
" wit-combats " of, 115 ; Dryden com-
pared with, T48; 150; 151; Pope
compared with, 155 ; works edited by
Johnson, 179; Thackeray compared
with, 227; 228; 250; 253.
Shelley, Percy Bysshe, 202, 203 ; ac-
count of, 210-212; 214; 218; 223;
252; 253.
Shepherd's Calendar, The, 84, 85, lOI.
Sherwood, map i, Db ; 32.
She Stoops to Conquer, 182-183.
Short History of the English People,

Green's, 248.
Shortest Way with Dissenters, The,

idy.
Shottery, 96.
Shylock, in The Merchant of Venice,

loo.
Sidney, Sir Philip, 82, 84 ; account of,
86-88 ; portrait, 87 ; mourning for,
92,97; sonnets, 94; 100; loi.
Silas Marner, 229, 230.

INDEX

275

Silex Sciniiilans, 127,

Sir Charles Grandison, 173.

Sir Patrick Sfiens, 204.

Sir Roger de Coverley^ in the Spectator,
162, 195.

Skelton, John, account of, 70-71 ; 76 ;
100; lOI.

Sketches by Boz, 224.

Slough of Despond, in Pilgrim^s Pro-
gress, 144.

Smollett, Tobias George, account of,
173-174; 194; 195; 221.

Songs of the dramatists, 88-89, 102;
of Burns, 192, 193, 196. See Lyrics.

Sonnet, introduced by Wyatt and
Surrey, 75; decade of, 94, 102; Sid-
ney's, 94; loi; Shakespeare's, 103-
104; 151; Milton's, 123.

Sonnets from the Portuguese, 241.

South America, 69.

Southey, Robert, 197; account of, 199-
200 ; 203 ; 214 ; 223 ; 252.

Southwark, 44.

Spain, 81, 134.

Specimens of Dramatic Poets Contem-
porary with Shakespeare, 216.

Spectator^ The, 162, 171, 195.

Speech on Conciliation with America,
183, 184.

Spenser, Edmund, account of, 82-86;
in Ireland, 91 ; 92 ; plan of the Faerie
Queene, 93-94 ; sonnets, 94 ; 98 ;
100; lOl ; 212; Ruskin compared
with, 237.

Spezzia, Bay of, 211.

Squire, the, in Canterbury Tales, illus-
tration, 47.

Steele, Sir Richard, Defoe compared
with, 167; Johnson compared with,
177. See Addison and Steele.

"Stella," 166-167.

Steps to the Altar, 126.

Sterne, Laurence, account of, 174-175 ;

194; 195-

Stones of l/^enice, 236.

Stratford, map 1, Db ; 95; 96; 105;

Shakespeare returns to, 106; 110;

acting forbidden in, it 6.
SuckUng, Sir John, 132 ; account of,

^133-134; 151-

Superannuated Man, The, 217.

Surrey, Earl of, account of, 74-76 ; 82 ;
100; loi ; treatment of nature com-
pared with Milton's, 120. See Wyatt.

Susquehanna, ig8, 200.

Sweden, 3, 134.

Swift, Jonathan, 160; account of, 163-
167; portrait, 165; Defoe compared
with, 167; 194; 195.

Swinburne, Algernon Charles, 248.
Syr Bedwere, in Malory's works, 54.

Tabard Inn, 44.

Tale of a Tub, The, 163-164.

Tales from Shakespeare, 216, 253.

Tamburlaine, 90-91.

Tarn CShanter, igi, 193, ig6.

Task, The, 188.

Tatler, The, 160-161, 162, 171, 195.

Taylor, Jeremy, account of, 130-131;

Tempest, The, 103.
Temple, Sir John, 163, 164, 166.
Temple, The, 125-126.
Tennyson, Alfred, 239 ; account of,
243-247; portrait, 243; 2i;o; 252;

ass-
Teutons, 1-3, 6, 7 ; compared with
Celts, 22, 23 ; 25 : 40.

Thackeray, William Makepeace, 223 ;
account of, 226-22S ; portrait, 227 ;
252 ; 254.

Thalaba, 200.

Thames, map i, DEc ; 157.

Thanet, Christianity preached on, 6.

Thanksgiving, A, 135.

Theatre, first, 82; Globe, 105.

Theatres, closed, 115-116, 151 ; flung
open, 146, 152 ; abandoned to care-
less and immoral, 117, 151.

Thor, I.

Tintern Abbey, 199.

To Althea, 134.

To a Skylark, 211.

Tom. Jones, 173. ■

Tories, 160, 163.

Tottel's Miscellany, 75, lOO, lOI, 132.

Tracy, Herrick's dog, 135.

Translations, Bede's Gospel of St. John^
15, 24 ; Alfred's, 18, 19, 24 ; Wace's
History of the Kings of Britain, 29-
30 ; French Romances into English,
30, 33 ; M andevilW s Travels, 38 ;
Wyclif's Bible, 73 ; Surrey's ^neid,
75 ; inspired by the Renaissance,
81; Dryden's ^neid, T49, 171;
Pope's Iliad and Odyssey, 156 ;
"George Eliot's," 229; Carlyle's,

Traveller, The, 180-18 1,

Tribe of Ben, 114.

Tristram Shandy, 174, 195.

Troy, 29, 34, 156.

Turks capture Constantinople, 68 ; the

Greeks rise against, 210, 253.
Turner, William, 236.
Twickenham, map i, Dc ; 157.
Tyndale, William, 73-74, lOO, loi.

2/6

INDEX

Tyndall, John, 248.

Tyne, River, map i, CDa; 17.

Udall, Nicholas, 78, lOO, loi.
Unities, classic, tii, 114.
Universities, their weakness discovered

by Bacon, 107. See Cambridge and

Oxford.
" University wits," 90.
Unto This Last, 236.
Uriah Heep, in Dickens's works, 225.
Utopia, 72-73.

Valhalla, i.

Valkyries, i.

Valley of Humiliation, in Pilgrim's

Progress, 144.
Valley of the Shadow of Death, in Pii-

grimes Progress, 144.
Vanity Pair, 144, 227.
Vassar, Matthew, 16S.
Vaughan, Henry, 124, 126; account of,

127--129; 150; 151.
Venus and Adonis, g8.
Venus de Medici, 202.
Vercelli Book, 8. 24.
Vicar of Wakejield, The, 180, 181, 224.
Vice, the, 61, 77.

Victorian Age, the, 223, 226, 243, 255.
Vision of Piers Plowman, 39-41, 43-

50-

Wace, 29-30, 34.

Wserferth, 18, 19.

Wales, 2t8.

Walsh, William, advises Pope, 154-155.

Walton, Izaak, account of, 137-J38,

151; 152.

War of the Roses, 54, 66.
Warwickshire, map i, Db; 228.
Waverley, 206, 222, 253.
We Are Seven, 199.
Webster, John, no,

Wellbred, in Ben Jonson's works, U2,

114. -
Welsh, Jane. See Mrs. Carlyle.
Westminster, 65.
Westminster Abbey, 183.
Westminster Review^ 229.
Weston, 188.
West Saxons, 21.
Whigs, pension Addison, 158; 159;

160; 163.
Whitby, map i. Da; 8.
Whitby Abbey, illustration, 9.
* ' Wicked wasp of Twickenham "

(Pope), 157, 166.
Widsith, 7, 23, 250.
Wife of Bath, in Canterbury Tales,

illustration, 46.
William and Mary, 167.
William the Conqueror, 23.
*' Will's" coffee house, 153.
Wilson, John, 218, 254.
Winchester, map i, Dc; 19.
Winter^s Tale, The, 103.
Wishes to His (Supposed) Mistress, 120.
Witches and Other Night Pears, 217.
"Wit-combats" between Shakespeare

and Jonson, 115.
Wolsey, Cardinal, 70.
Worcester, map i, Cb; 18.
Wordsworth, Dorothy, 198.
Wordsworth, William, account of, 197-

199, 202-203; portrait, 197; 207;

208; 214; 21S; 223; 250; 252; 253.
World, Raleigh's History of t/ie, 106.
World,^ The, 127.
Worthies of England, The, 130.
Wyatt, Sir Thomas, account of, 74-76;

and Surrey introduce Itahan regard

for form, 74, 82, lOO, lOi.
Wyclif, John, account of, 41-43; por-
trait, 41 ; 51.

York, map 1, Db; i5.

(3rbe iSitieriSitie |&retfitf

Electrotyped and printed by H. O. Houghton &' Co.
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